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PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS. 



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PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS, 



BY 

DUGALD STEWART, ESa 

F. R, S. EDIN. 

EMERITUS PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY, I>r THE UNrvnnSlTY OF 

EDINBURr^^i 

Honorary Member of the Imperial Acaflemy of Sciences at St. Petersbui-gh; and 

Member ^ *ho American Philosophical Society, held at Philadelphia. 



I, ^ FIRST AMERICAN EDITION, 



PRINTED FOR ANTHONY FINLEY, PHILADELPHIA; 

AND 
WHITING AND WATSON, NEW-YORK. 

Fry and Kammerer, Printers. 
1811. 









IN EXCHANGE. 

Brew Tiaeol. Sem* 

}A»24 1908 



TO 

M. PREVOST, 

PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN THE ACADEMY OF GENEVA; 

FELLOW OF THE ROYAL SOCIETIES OF LONDON 
AND OF EDINBURGH; 

MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY OF BERLIN; 
CORRESPONDENT OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE, &c. &c. 

In the interrupted state of our correspondence at pre» 
sent, you will pardon the liberty I take, in prefixing your 
name to this Volume. The honour you have lately done 
me, by your French translation of my book on the Human 
Mind, and the warm interest you have always taken in 
the success of that work, since the period of its first 
appearance, I feel as the most flattering marks of appro- 
bation which it has ever received; and they might perhaps 
have tempted me to indulge, more than becomes me, 
the vanity of an author, had it not been repressed by the 
still more pleasing idea, that I am indebted for them chiefly 
to the partiality of your friendship. 

Permit me. Sir, to inscribe to you the following Essays, 
in testimony of my respect and attachment; and as a slight 
but sincere acknowledgment of the obligations you have 
laid me under by your long-continued kindness, as well 
as of the instruction and pleasure I have derived from 
your philosophical writings. 

DUGALD STEWART 

June, 1810. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



1 HE state of my health havmg interrupted, for many 
months past, the continuation of my work on tlie Human 
Mind, I was induced to attempt, in the mean time, the 
easier task of preparing for the press a volume of Essays. 
I have not, however, abandoned the design which I ven- 
tured to announce eighteen years ago; and in the execu- 
tion of which I have already made considerable progress. 
After thirty-eight years devoted to the various pursuits 
connected with my different academical situations, I now 
indulge the hope of enjoying, in a more retired scene, a 
short period of private study; and feel myself sufficient- 
ly warned by the approaching infirmities of age, not to 
delay any longer my best exertions for the accomplish- 
ment of an undertaking, which I have hitherto prosecuted 
only at accidental and often distant intervals; but which 
I have always fondly imagined (whether justly or not 
others must determine) might, if carried into complete 
effect, be of some utility to the public 

Kinneil-House, 15th June, 1810. 



CONTENTS. 



PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 

Page 

CHAPTER I. - - 1 

CHAPTER II. .... . . 23 

PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS. PART L 

ESSAY FIRST. — On Locke's Account of the sources of Hu- 
man Knowledge, and its influence on the doctrines of some 
of his successors, - - ----- 65 

CHAPTER I. — Introductory Observations, - 65 

CHAPTER II. — Inconsistency of our conclusions in the 
foregoing chapter, with Locke's account of the origin of 

our knowledge, - - 73 

CHAPTER III Influence of Locke's account of the 

origin of our knowledge on the speculations of various 
eminent writers since his time, more particularly on 
those of Berkeley and Hume, - - - - 84 

CHAPTER IV. — The same subject continued, - 95 

ESSAY SECOND.—On the Idealism of Berkely, - 105 

CHAPTP^R I. — On some prevailing mistakes with res- 
pect to the import and aim of the Berkeleian system, 105 
CHAPTER II.— Section 1.-— On the foundation of our 
belief of the existence of the material world, accord- 
ing to the statement of Reid. — Strictures on that 

statement, - 122 

Section 2. — Continuation of the subject. — Indistinctness 
of the line drawn by Reid, as well as by Des Cartes 
and Locke, between the primary and the secondary 
qualities of matter. — Distinction between the primary 
qualities of matter, and its mathematical ^flections, 136 

b 



s CONTENTS. 

KSSAY THIRD.-— On the influence of Locke's authority upon 
the Philosophical systems which prevailed in France during 
the latter part of the eighteenth century, - - - 145 

ESSAY FOURTH.— On the metaphysical T^jeories of Hart- 
ley, Priestley, and Darwin, - - - - - 166 

ESSAY FIFTH.— On the tendency of some late Philological 

speculations, - - -- - -- - 181 

CHAPTER L 181 

CHAPTER II. - !91 

CHAPTER III. >..-.- 204 

CHAPTER IV. --.--.. 216 

■t 

PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS. PART XL 

ESSAY FIRST.— On the Beautiful, . - - - 231 

Introduction, 231 

Part First. — On the Beautiful, when presented immedi- 
ately to our senses, ---- - - 234 

CHAPTER I. — General observations on the subject of 
inquiry, and on the plan upon which it is proposed to 
examine it, - - - - . - - 234 

CHAPTER II. — Progressive Generalizations of the word 
Beauty, resulting from the natural progress of the mind. 
Beauty of colours — of forms — of motion.— Combina- 
tions of these. — Uniformity in works of art. — Beauty of 
nature, _-- 249 

CHAPTER III. — Remarks on some of Mr. Burke's prin- 
ciples which do not agree with the foregoing conclu- 
sions, - - 262 

CHAPTER IV. — Continuation of the critical strictures 
on Mr. Burke's fundamental principles concerning 
Beauty. — Influence of these principles on the specula- 
tions of Mr. Price, 269 

CHAPTER V. — Continuation of the same subject, 280 

CHAPTER VI —Of the application of the theory of As- 
sociation to Beauty. — Farther generalizations of this 
word, in consequence of the influence of the associating 
principle, ---.... 297 



CONTENTS. Ki 

CHAPTER VII.— .Continualioii of the subject.— Objec- 
tions to a theory of Beauty proposed by Father Buffier 
and Sir Joshua Reynolds, - - - - 315 

Part Second. — On the Beautiful, when presented to the 
power of Imagination - - - - - - 323 

ESSAY SECOND.— On the Sublime, . - - - 340 

Preface, - 340 

CHAPTER I.— Of Sublimity, in the literal sense of the 

word, - - - . - - - - 343 

CHAPTER II.— Generalizations of the word Sublimity, 
in consequence of the influence of religious associa- 
tions, 358 

CHAPTER III — Generalizations of Sublimity in conse- ♦ 

quence of associations resulting from the phenomena 
of gravitation, and from the other physical arrange- 
ments with which our senses are conversant, 373 

CHAPTER IV — Confirmation of the foregoing theory 
from the natural signs of Sublime emotion. — Reciprocal 
influence of these signs on the associations which sug- 
gest them, ----- . - 394 

CHAPTER V. — Inferences from the foregoing doctrines, 
with some additional illustrations, - - , 400 

ESSAY THIRD.— On Taste, - - - - - 410 

CHAPTER I.' — General observations on our acquired 
powers of judgment. — Application of these to the sub- 
ject of this Essay, ----- - 410 

CHAPTER IL— Gradual progress by which Taste is 
formed, - 421 

CHAPTER III.— Difl-erent Modifications of Taste— 
Distinction between Taste and the natural sensibility to 
Beauty, - - - 444 

CHAPTER IV — Continuation of the subject. — Specific 
pleasure connected with the exercise of Taste. — Fas- 
tidiousness of Taste. — Miscellaneous remarks on this 
power, considered in its connection with character and 
happiness, ,- - 457 

ESSAY FOURTH— On the culture of certain intellectual 
habits connected with the first elements of Taste, - 475 



Xll 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I.— Dependence of Taste on a relish for the 
pleasures of imagination. — Remarks on the prevailing 
idea, that these are to be enjoyed in perfection, in youth 
al6ne, ------ 

CHAPTER n. — Continuation of the^ subject.— Reply to 
an objection founded on the supposed vigour of imagi- 
nation in the earlier periods of society, 
Notes and Illustrations, - - - - 



475 



495 
507 



PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 



CHAPTER FIRST. 

1 HE chief aim of the following dissertation is, to cor- 
rect some prevailing mistakes with respect to the Philo- 
sophy of the Human Mind. In the introduction to a 
former Work, I have enlarged, at considerable length, 
upon the same subject; but various publications which 
have since appeared, incline me to think, that, in resum- 
ing it here, I undertake a task not altogether superfluous. 

Of the remarks which I am now to state, a few have a 
particular reference to the contents of this volume. Others 
are intended to clear the way for a different series of dis- 
cussions, which I hope to be able, at some future period, 
to present to the public. 

I. In the course of those speculations on the Mind, to 
which I have already referred, and with which, I trust, 
that tny present readers are not altogether unacquainted, 
I have repeatedly had occasion to observe, that " as our 
*' notions both of matter and of mind are merely relative; 
" as we know the one only by such sensible qualities as 
" extension, figure, and solidity, and the other by such 
*' operations as sensation, thought, and volition; we are 
*' certainly entitled to say, that matter, and mind, const- 
^^ deredas Objects of Human Study ^ are essentially differ- 

A 



2 iPHEUMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. L 

* ent; the science of the former resting ultimately on 

* phenomena exhibited to our senses, that of the latter 
' on phenomena of which we are conscious. Instead^ 

* therefore, of objecting to the scheme of materialism, 
' that its conclusions are false, it would be more accurate 

* to say, that its aim is unphilosophical. It proceeds on 

* a misapprehension of the extent and the limits of genu- 

* ine science; the difficulty, which it professes to remove, 

* being manifestly placed beyond the reach of our facul- 

* ties. Surely, when we attempt to explain the nature of 
' that principle, which feels, and thinks, and wills, by 
' saying, that it is a material substance, or that it is the 
' result of material organization, we impose on ourselves 
' by words; forgetting that matter, as well as mind, is 
' known to us by its qualities alone, and that we are 
' equally ignorant of the essence of either." 

In the farther prosecution of the same argument, I 
have attempted to show, that the legitimate province of 
this department of philosophy extends no farther than to 
conclusions resting on the solid basis of observation and 
experiment; and I have, accordingly, in my own inqui- 
ries, aimed at nothing more, than to ascertain, in the first 
place, the Laws of our Constitution, as far as they can be 
disco'oered by attention to the subjects of our consciousness; 
and afterwards to apply these laws as principles for the 
synthetical explanation of the more complicated phenome- 
na of the understanding. It is on this plan I have treated 
of the association of ideas, of memory, of imagination, and 
of various other intellectual powers; imitating, as far as I 
was able, in my reasonings, the example of those who are 
allowed to have cultivated the study of Natural Philosophy 
with the greatest success. The Physiological Theories 



Cliap.I/j PRELIMTNAUY DISSERTATION. 3 

which profess to explain how our different mental opera- 
tions are produced by means of vibrations, and other 
changes in the state of the sensorium^ if they are not alto- 
gether hypothetical and visionary, cannot be considered, 
even by their warmest advocates, as resting on the same 
evidence with those conclusions which are open to the ex- 
amination of all men capable of exercising the power of 
Reflection; and, therefore, scientific distinctness requires, 
that these two different classes of propositions should not 
be confounded together under one common name. For 
my own part, I have no scruple to say, that I consider the 
physiological problem in question, as one of those which 
are likely to remain for ever among the arcana of nature; 
nor am I afraid of being contradicted by any competent 
and candid judge, how sanguine soever may be his hopes 
concerning the progress of future discovery, when I as- 
sert, that it has hitherto eluded completely all the efforts 
which have been made towards its solution. As to the 
metaphysical romances above alluded to, they appear to 
me, after all the support and illustration which they have 
received from the ingenuity of Hartley, of Priestley, and 
of Darwin, to be equally unscientific in the design, and 
uninteresting in the execution; destitute, at once, of the 
sober charms of Truth, and of those imposing attractions, 
which Fancy, when united to Taste, can lend to Fiction. 
In consequence of the unbounded praise which I have 
heard bestowed upon them, I have repeatedly begun the 
study of them anew, suspecting that I might be under 
the influence of some latent and undue prejudice against 
this new mode of philosophizing, so much in vogue at 
present in England; but notwithstanding the strong pre- 
dilection which I have always felt for such pursuits, m)^ 



4 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. I, 

labour has uniformly ended in a sentiment of regret, at 
the time and attention which I had misemployed in so 
hopeless and so ungrateful a task. 

Mr. Locke, although he occasionally indulges himself 
in hints and conjectures, somewhat analogous to those of 
Hartley and Darwin, seems to have been perfectly aware 
how foreign such speculations are to the genuine Philo- 
sophy of the Human Mind. The following are his own 
words, in the second paragraph of the Introduction to 
his Essay: — " This, therefore, being my purpose, to in- 
" quire into the original, certainty, and extent of human 
" knowledge; together with the grounds and degrees of 
" belief, opinion, and assent, I shall not, at present, med- 
** die with the physical consideration of the mind, or 
'' trouble myself to examine, wherein its essence con- 
" sists, or by what motions of our spirits, or alteration of 
" our bodies, we come to have any sensation by our or- 
" gans, or any ideas of our understandings; and whether 
" these ideas do in their formation, any or all of them, 
** depend on matter or not. These are speculations, 
" which, however curious and entertaining, I shall de- 
"cline, as lying out of my way in the design I am now 
**upon." It is much to be wished, that Mr. Locke had 
adhered invariably to this wise resolution. 

I flatter myself it will not be inferred, from the manner 
in which I have expressed myself with respect to the com- 
mon theories of physiologists about the causes of the intel- 
lectual phenomena, that 1 entertain any doubt of the inti- 
mate connection which exists between these phenomena 
and the organization of the body. The great principle 
which I am anxious to inculate, is, that all the theories 
which have yet been offered on this subject, are entirely 



Ohap.T] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 5 

unsupported by proof; and what is worse, are of such a 
kind, that it is neither possible to confirm nor to refute 
them, by an appeal to experiment or observation. That I 
was all along fully aware of the dependence, in our pre- 
sent state, of our mental operations on the sound condi- 
tion of our corporeal frame, appears sufficiently from what 
I remarked, many years ago, concerning the laws of this 
connection between viind and body^ as presenting one of 
the most interesting objects of examination connected 
with the theory of human nature. -^^ 

I have been induced to caution my Readers against 
the possibility of such a misapprehension of my meaning, 
by the following passage in a late publication: " What that 
*' affection of the brain is," (says Mr Belsham) " which, 
" by the constitution of human nature, causes Memory, 
" we cannot absolutely ascertain. The hypothesis of Vi- 
" brations^ w^hich has already been explained, is the most 
'' probable. It is trifling to object, that if the existence of 
" impressions on the brain could be proved. Memory 
" would remain as unaccountable as before: all which 
** this hypothesis pretends to, is to advance a step in tra- 
" cing the process of the connection between external ob- 
'' jects and mental feelings." — " It is curious to observe," 
(the same author continues) '' that Dr. Reid, after start- 
** ing several objections against the commonly received 
*' hypotheses, is obliged to admit, that * many well-known 
" facts lead us to conclude, that a certain constitution or 
" state of the brain is necessary to Memory." 

On this passage I shall offer only two remaks. The first 
is, that, notwithstanding Mr. Belsham's zeal for Hartley's 

* Philosophy of the Human Mind, pp. 11, 12, 3d ed. 



6 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION; [Chap. I. 

Theory of Vibrations, he confesses explicitly, that " we 
*' cannot absolutely ascertain, what that affection of the 
** brain is, which, by the constitution of human nature, 
" causes memory;" and that, " the theory of Vibrations, 
** though more probable than some others, is still but an 
" hypothesis." Secondly, that Mr. Belsham, after making 
this explicit acknowledgment, is nevertheless pleased to 
insinuate, that all who presume to object to this particular 
hypothesis, are bound by their own principles to assert, 
that memory has no dependence whatever on the state of 
the brain. Where the inconsistency lies in Dr. Reid's ad- 
mission, that a certain constitution or state of the brain is 
necessary to memory, after he had stated some objections 
against the commonly received theories, I am at a loss to 
discover. Indeed, I should be glad to know, what philo- 
sopher, ancient or modern, has ever yet asserted, that 
memory is not liable to be injured by such affections of 
the brain as are produced by intemperance, disease, old 
age, and other circumstances which disturb the bodily 
mechanism. The philosophical inference, however, from 
this concession is, not that the hypothesis of Dr. Hartley, 
or the hypothesis of Mr. Belsham must necessarily be 
true; but that, laying aside all hypotheses, we should ap^ 
ply ourselves to collect such facts as may lead us, in due 
time, to the only satisfactory conclusions we have much 
qhance of ever forming concerning the connection be- 
tween mind and body — the discovery of some of the 
general laws by which this connection is regulated. 

In offering these strictures on the physiological meta- 
physics of the present day, it is proper for me, at the same 
time, to observe, that I object to it merely as an idle waste 
of labour and ingenuity, on questions to which the human 



qhap. I.^ PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 7 

faculties are altogether incompetent; and not because I 
consider any of the theories, to which it has given birth, 
as standing in the vvay of my own doctrines. The facts 
which I wish to ascertain rest on their own proper evi- 
dence; — an evidence which would remain entire and un- 
shaken, although a demonstration should be produced in 
favour of the animal spirits of Des Cartes, or of the Vibra- 
tions of Hartley; and which would not gain the slightest 
accession of strength, if both these hypotheses were to 
fall into the contempt they deserve. The circumstance 
which peculiarly characterizes the inductive Science of the 
Mind is, that it professes to abstain from all speculations 
concerning its nature and essence; confining the attention 
entirely to phenomena, which every individual has it in his 
power to examine for himself, who chooses to exercise 
the powers of his understanding. In this respect, it differs 
equally in its scope, from the pneumatological discussions 
concerning the seat of the Soul, and the possibility or the 
impossibility of its bearing any relation to Space or to 
Time, which so long gave employment to the subtility of 
the schoolmen; — and from the physiological hypotheses 
which have made so much noise at a later period, concern- 
ing the mechanical causes on which its operations depend. 
Compared with the first, it differs, as the inquiries of Ga- 
lileo concerning the laws of moving bodies differ from the 
disputes of the ancient sophists concerning the existence 
and the nature of motion. Compared with the other, the 
difference is analogous to what exists between the conclu- 
sions of Newton about the law of gravitation, and his qiierif 
concerning the invisible ether ^ of which he supposed it 
might possibly be the effect. — It may be worth while to 
add, in passing, that the diversity of opinion among New^r 



8 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. I 

ton's followers, with respect to the verisimilitude of this 
query ^ while they have unanimously acquiesced in the 
physical conclusions of their master, affords an instructive 
proof, how little the researches of inductive science are 
liable to be influenced by the wanderings of Imagination, 
in those regions which human reason is not permitted to 
explore. Whatever our opinion concerning the unknown 
physical or metaphysical cause of gravitation may be, our 
reasonings concerning the system of nature will be equally 
just, provided only we admit the general fact, that bodies 
tend to approach each other with a force varying with 
their mutual distances, according to a certain law. The 
case is precisely similar with respect to those conclusions 
concerning the mind, to which we are fairly led by the 
method of Induction. They rest upon a firm and indis- 
putable basis of their own; and (as I have elsewhere re- 
marked) are equally compatible with the metaphysical 
creeds of the Materialist and of the Berkeleian. * 

* The hypothesis which assumes the existence of a subtle fluid 
in the nerves, propagated by their means from the brain to the dif- 
ferent parts of the body, is of great antiquity; and is certainly less 
repugnant to the general analogy of our frame, than that by which it 
has been supplanted. How very generally it once prevailed, may be 
inferred from the adoption into common speech of the phrase anzwa/ 
fifiirits^ to denote that unknown cause which " gives vigour or cheer- 
fulness to the mind;'* — a phrase for which our language does not, at 
this day,aiford a convenient substitute. The late Dr. Alexander Monro 
(one of the most cautious and judicious of medical inquirers) speaks 
of it as a fact which appeared to him to be almost indisputable. " The 
*' existence of a liquid in the cavities of the nerves, is supported by 
*< little short of demonstrative evidence." (Sec some observations of 
his, published by Cheselden in his Anatomy.) 

The hypothesis of Vibrations first attracted public notice in the 
writings of Dr. William Briggs. It was from him tiiat Sir Isaac 
Newton derived his anatomical knowledge; along with which he ap- 



Oha'D. 1.3 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 9 

11. Intimately connected with the physiological hypo- 
thesis of the Hartleian school, is their metaphysical the- 
ory of Association, from which single principle they boast 
to have explained synthetically all the phenomena of the 
mind. In Dr. Priestley's Remarks on Reid's Inquiry, there 
is an attempt to turn into ridicule, by what the author 
calls a Table of Dr. Reid's Instinctive Principles, the ap- 
plication of the Inductive Logic to these phenomena. 
How far this Table is faithfully extracted from Dr. Reid's 
book, it is unnecessary for me to consider at present.^ 
Supposing, for the sake of argument, that the Twelve 
Principles enumerated by Priestle}^ had been actually 
stated by his antagonist as instinctive principles^ or as ge^ 
nerallaws of our nature^ it is difficult to see for what rea- 
son the enumeration should be regarded as absurd, or 
even as unphilosophical, after the explanation given by 
Reid himself of the sense in which he wished his con- 
elusions to be understood. 

" The most general phenomena we can reach, are 
^^ what we call Laws of Nature. So that the laws of na- 
** ture are nothing else but the most general facts relating 
** to the operations of nature, which include a great many 
" particular facts under them. And, if, in any case, we 

pears plainly, from his Queries, to. ,have imbibed also some of the 
physiological theories of his preceptor. 

In the Monthly Review for 1808, 1 observe the following passage: 
<« For the partiality which he (Dr. Cogan) shews to Dr. Reid, we 
'* may easily account, as being a just tribute to the ingenuity and 
" industry of that writer, and to the numerous valuable observations 
" which enrich his works, unconnected with his crude hypothesis on 
" the subject of the Human Mind." In what part of Dr. Reid's writ- 
ings is this crude hypothesis proposed? 

* The reader will b^ enabled to form a judgment on this pointj 
bv the Note (**) at the end of tliis Volume. 

B 



10 FRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap, h 

" should give the name of a law of nature to a general 
" phenomenon, which human industry shall afterwards 
*' trace to one more general, there is no great harm done^ 
** The most general assumes the name of a law of nature 
*' when it is discovered; and the less general is contained 
** and comprehended in it."* 

In another part of his work, he has introduced the same 
remark. " The labyrinth may be too intricate, and the 
*' thread too fine, to be traced through all its windings; 
^* but if we stop where we can trace it no farther, and 
^* secure the ground we have gained, there is no harm 
^' done; a quicker eye may in time trace it farther."! 

In reply to these passages, Priestley observes, that 
** the suspicion that we are got to ultimate principles^ 
^- necessarily checks all farther inquiry, and is therefore 
*• of great disservice in philosophy. Let Dr. Reid (he 
^' continues) lay his hand upon his breast, and say, whe- 
*' ther, after what he has written, he would not be exceed- 
^* ingly mortified to find it clearly proved, to the satisfac- 
*' tion of all the world, that all the instinctive principles 
*' in the preceding Table were really acquired; and that 
*' all of ];hem were nothing more than so many different 
** cases of the old and well-known principle of Associa^ 
*' tion of Ideas.'''' 

With respect to the probability of this supposition, I 
have nothing to add to what I have stated on the same 
head, in the Philosophy of the Human Mind; " that, in 
** all the other sciences, the progress of discovery has 
" been gradual, from the less general to the more general 
* ■ laws of nature; and that it would be singular indeed, if, 

* Reid's Inquiry, p. 223, 3d cd. t P- ^' 



Chap. I.] ^UELIMINARY DISSERT ATtON- 1 1 

*' in this science, which but a few years ago was confess- 
" edly in its infancy, and which certainly labours under 
" many disadvantages peculiar to itself, a step should aft 
" at once be made to a single principle, comprehending 
" all the particular phenomena which we know*"^ 

As the order established in the intellectual world seems 
to be regulated by laws perfectly analogous to those which 
we trace among the phenomena of the material system; 
and as, in all our philosophical inquiries (to whatever 
subject they may relate) the progress of the mind is liable 
to be alFected by the same tendency to a premature gene* 
ralization, the following extract from an eminent chemi- 
cal writer may contribute to illustrate the scope, and to 
confirm the justness of some of the foregohig reflections* 

*^ Within the last fifteen or twenty years, several new 
*' metals, and new earths, have been made known to 
" the world. The names that support these discoveries 
** are respectable, and the experiments decisive. If we 
** do not give our assent to them, no single proposition 
" in chemistry can for a moment stand. But whether 
*^ all these are really simple substances, or compounds 
" not yet resolved into their elements, is what the authors 
" themselves cannot possibly assert; nor would it, in the 
" least, diminish the merit of their observations, if future 
" experiments should prove them to have been mistaken, 
" as to the simplicity of these substances. This remark 
*' should not be confined to later discoveries; it may as 
"- justly be applied to those earths and metals with which 
*' we have been long acquainted."—" In the dark ages 
'^ of chemistry, the object was to rival nature; and the 

* Elements, Sec. p. 398 (3d edition), where I have enlarged on this 
point at r^ome length. 



12 PRELIMmARY DISSERTATION, [Chap. I. 

*' substance which the adepts of those days were biasied 
" to create, was universally allowed to be simple. In a 
" more enlightened period, we have extended our inqui- 
" ries, and multiplied the number of the elements* The 
*' last task will be to simplify; and, by a closer obser- 
" vation of nature, to learn from what a small store of 
" primitive materials, all that we behold and wonder at 
" was created."* 

This analogy between the history of chemistry and 
that of the philosophy of the human mind, which has often 
struck myself in contrasting the views of the Alchemists 
with those of Lavoisier and his followers, has. acquired 
much additional value and importance in my estimation, 
since I had the pleasure to peruse a late work of M. De 
Gerando; in which I find, that the same analogy has pre- 
sented itself to that most judicious philosopher, and has 
been applied by him to the same practical purpose^ of 
exposing the false pretensions and premature generaliza- 
tions of some modern metaphysicians. 

" It required nothing less than the united splendour of 
" the discoveries brought to light by the new chemical 
** school, to tear the minds of men from the pursuit of ^ 
" simple and primary element; a pursuit renewed in every 
" age with an indefatigable perseverance, and always re- 
** newed in vain. With what feelings of contempt would 
** the physiologists of former times have looked down on 
" the chemists of the present age, whose timid and cir- 
" cumscribed system admits nearly forty different prin- 

. * Inquiries concerning the nature of a metallic substance, lately 
sold in London as a new Metal, under the title of Falladiwn, B/ 
Rich. Chenevix, Esq. 



qhap. 1.3 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION?, 18 

*^ ciples in the composition of bodies! What a subject of 
*' ridicule would the new nomenclature have afforded to 
" an Alchemist!" 

" The Philosophy of Mind, has its Alchemists also; — 
" men whose studies are directed to the pursuit of one 
" single principle, into which the whole science may be 
" resolved; and who flatter themselves with the hope of 
" discovering the grand secret, by which the pure gold of 
*' Truth may be produced at pleasure."*' 

Among these Alchemists in the science of mind, the 
first place is undoubtedly due to Dr. Hartley, who not 
only attempts to account for all the phenomena of human 
nature, from the single principle of Association^ combined 
w4th the hypothetical assumption of an invisible fluid or 
ether ^ producing Vibrations in the medullary substance of 
the brain and nerves; but indulges his imagination in 
anticipating an aera, " when future generations shall put 
" all kinds of evidences and inquiries into mathemetical 
*' forms; reducing Aristotle^s ten categories, and Bishop 
" Wilkins' forty summa genera^ to the head of Quantity 
" alone, so as to make mathematics and logic, natural 
" history and civil history, natural philosophy, and philo- 
*^ sophy of all other kinds, coincide omni eX parte, "^"^ If 
I had never read another sentence of this author, I should 
have required no farther evidence of the unsoundness of 
his understanding. 

It is however, on such rash and unwarranted assertions 
as this, combined with the supposed comprehensiveness 
of his metaphysical views, that the peculiar merits of 
Hartley seem now to be chiefly rested by the more en 

* De Gerando, Hist, des Systemes, torn. II. pp. 481, 482. 



14 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION, t&p. t 

lightened of his admirers. Most of these, at least whom t 
have happened to converse with^ have spoken of his phy- 
siological doctrines as but of litde value, compared with 
the wonders which he has accomplished by a skilful use 
of the Associating Principle. On this head, therefore, I 
must request the attention of my readers to a few short 
remarks. 

III. Of the most celebrated theorists who have appeared 
since the time of Lord Bacon, by far the greater part have 
attempted to attract notice, by displaying their ingenuity 
in deducing, from some general principle or law, already 
acknowledged by philosophers, an immense variety of 
particular phenomena. For this purpose, they have fre^ 
quently found themselves under a necessity of giving a 
false gloss to facts, and sometimes of totally misrepre- 
senting them; a practice which has certainly contributed 
much to retard the progress of experimental knowledge; 
but w^hich, at the same time, must be allowed (at least in 
Physics) to have, in some cases, prepared the way for 
sounder conclusions. The plan adopted by Hartley is very 
different from this, and incomparably more easy in the 
execution. The generalizations which he has attempted 
are merely verbal; deriving whatever speciousness they 
may possess, from the unprecedented latitude given to 
the meaning of common terms. After telling us, for ex-, 
ample, that '* all our internal feelings, excepting our sen- 
" sations, may be called ideas j''^ and giving to the word 
Association a correspo>idmg vagueness in its import, he 
seems to have flattered himself, that he had resolved into 
one single law, all the various phenomena, both intellec- 
tual and moral ol the human mind. What advantage, 
either theoretical or practical, do we reap from this pre - 



Chap. I] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 15 

tended discovery; — a discovery necessarily involved in 
the arbitrary definitions with which the author sets out? 
I must acknowledge, that I can perceive none:— while, 
on the other hand, I see clearly its necessary effect, by 
perverting ordinary language, to retard the progress of a 
science, which depends, more than any other, for its 
improvement, on the use of precise and definite expres- 
sions.* 

With respect to the phrase association ofideas^ which 
makes such a figure, not only in Hartley, but in most of 
the metaphysical writers whom England has since pro- 
duced, I shall take this opportunity to remark, how very 
widely its present acceptation differs from that invariably 
annexed to it in Mr Locke's Essay, In his short chapter 
on this subject (one of the most valuable in the whole 
work), his observations relate entirely to *' those connec- 
" tions of ideas that are owing to chance; in consequence 
" of which connections, ideas that, in themselves, are not 
" at all a-kin, come to be so united in some men's minds, 
" that it is very hard to separate them; and the one no 
** sooner, at any time, comes into the understanding, 

* Under the title of Association^ Hartley includes every connection 
which can possibly exist among our thoughts; whether the result of 
our natural constitution, or the effect of accidental circumstances, or 
the legitimate offspring of our rational powers. Even our assent to the 
proposition, that twice tivo is four, is (according to him) only a particu- 
lar case of the same general law. " The cause that a person affirms the 
truth of the proposition, t%vice two is four, is the entire coincidence of 
the visible or tangible idea of twice two with that of four, as impress- 
ed upon the mind by various objects. We see everywhere, that twice 
two and four are only different names for the same impression. And 
it is mere association which appropriates the word truth, its de- 
finition, or its internal feeling, to this coincidence.'* 

Hartley on Man, Vol. I. p. 325. 4th edit. 



16 PHELIJMINARt DISSERTATION, [Chap.L 

** but its Associate appears with it. "His reason for dwell- 
ing on these, he tells us expressly, is, " that those who 
" have children, or the charge of their education, may 
** think it worth their while diligently to watch, and care- 
*' fully to prevent the undue connection of ideas in the 
*' minds of young people. This (he adds) is the time 
*' most susceptible of lasting impressions; and though 
" those relating to the health of the body are, by discreet 
" people, minded and fenced against; yet I am apt to 
" doubt, that those which relate more peculiarly to the 
" mind, and terminate in the understanding, or passions, 
*' have been much less heeded than the thing deserves; 
** nay, those relating purely to the understanding have, 
" as I suspect, been by most men wholly overlooked." 

From these quotations, it is evident that Mr. Locke 
meant to comprehend, under the association of ideas ^ 
those Associations alone, which, for the sake of distinc- 
tion, I have characterized, in my former work, by the 
epithet casuaL To such as arise out of the nature and 
condition of Man (and which, in the following Essays, I 
generally denominate Universal Associations), Mr Locke 
gives the title of Natural Connections; observing, with 
regard to them, that *' it is the office and excellency of 
" reason to trace them, and to hold them together in 
** union." If his language on this head had been more 
closely imitated by his successors, many of the errors and 
false refinements would have been avoided, into which 
they have fallen. Mr Hume was one of the first who devi- 
ated from it, by the enlarged sense in which he used 
Association in his writings; comprehending under that 
term, all the various connections or affinities among our 
ideas, natural as well as casual; and even going so far as 



Ghap. I.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 17 

to anticipate Hartley's conclusions, by representing " the 
"principle of union and cohesion among our simple 
" ideas as a kind of attraction, of as universal application 
*' in the Mental world as in the Natural."* As it is now, 
however, too late to remonstrate against this unfortu- 
nate innovation, all that remains for us is to limit the 
meaning of Association, where there is any danger of 
ambiguity, by two such qualifying adjectives as I have 
already mentioned. I have, accordingly, in these Essays, 
employed the word in the sanie general acceptation with 
Mr. Hume, as it seems to me to be that which is most 
agreeable to present use, and consequently the most likely 
to present itself to the generality of my readers; guarding 
them, at the same time, as far as possible, against con- 
founding the two very different classes of connections, to 
which he applies indiscriminately this common title. As 
for the latitude of Hartley's phraseology, it is altogether 
incompatible with precise notions of our intellectual ope- 
rations, or with any thing approaching to logical reasoning 
concerning the Human Mind; — two circumstances which 
have probably contributed not a little to the popularity of 
his book, among a very numerous class of inquirers. 

For my own part, notwithstanding the ridicule to which 
I may expose myself, by the timidity of my researches, it 
shall ever be my study and my pride, to follow the foot- 
steps of those faithful interpreters of nature, who, dis- 
claiming all pretensions to conjectural sagacity, aspire to 
nothing higher, than to rise slowly from particular facts 
to general laws. I trust, therefore, that while, in this re- 
spect, I propose to myself the example of the Newtonian 

* Treatise of Human Nature, Vol. I. p. 30. 

c 



18 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. LC^ap. I. 

School, I shall be pardoned for discovering some solici- 
tude, on the other hand, to separate the Philosophy of 
the Human Mind from those frivolous branches of scho- 
lastic learning with which it is commonly classed in the 
public opinion. With this view, I have elsewhere endea- 
voured to explain, as clearly as I could, what I conceive 
to be its proper object and province; but some additional 
illustrations, of a historical nature, may perhaps contri- 
bute to place my argument in a stronger light than it is 
possible to do by any abstract reasoning. 

IV. It is a circumstance not a little remarkable, that 
the Philosophy of the Mind, although in later times con- 
sidered as a subject of purely metaphysical research, was 
classed among the branches of physical science, in the 
ancient enumeration of the objects of human knowledge. 
In estimating the merit of those who first proposed this 
arrangement, something, I suspect, may be fairly ascribed 
to accident; but that the arrangement is in itself agreeable 
to the views of the most enlightened and refined logic, 
appears indisputably from this obvious consideration, 
that the Vi^ords Matter and Mind express the two great 
departments of nature which fall under our notice; and 
that, in the study of both, the only progress we are able 
to make, is by an accurate examination of particular phe- 
nomena, and a cautious reference of these to the general 
laws or rules under which they are comprehended. Ac- 
cordingly, some modern writers, of the first eminence, 
have given their decided sanction to this old and almost 
forgotten classification, in preference to that which has 
obtained universally in modern Europe. 

'' The ancient Greek philosophy" (says Mr. Smith) 
*^ was divided into three great branches; physics, or ria- 



qhap. I.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION.' 19 

"tural philosophy; ethics, or moral philosophy; and 
** logic." — This general division" (he adds) " seems 
'* perfectly agreeable to the nature of things." Mr. Smith 
afterwards observes, " that as the human mind, in Vv'hat- 
" ever its essence may be supposed to consist, is a part, 
" of the great system of the universe, and a part, too, 
" productive of the most important effects, whatever was 
" taught in the ancient schools of Greece, concerning its 
" nature, made a part of the system of Physics."* 

Mr. Locke, too, in the concluding chapter of his 
Essay, proposes, as what seemed to him the most gene- 
ral, as vi^ell as natural division of the objects of our un- 
derstanding, an arrangement coinciding exactly with that 
of the ancients, as explained by Mr. Smith in the fore- 
going passage. To the first branch of science he gives 
the name of ^va-iTtyj; to the second that of U^ccktikyj; to the 
third, that of Si^jwe/wTiJcjJ, or AoyiK-^; adding, with respect 
to the word cf)o<r<K)J, (or natural philosophy) that he em- 
ploys it to comprehend, not merely the knowledge of 
matter and body, but also of spirits; the end of this 
branch being bare speculative truth, and consequently 
every subject belonging to it, which affords a field of 
speculative study to the human faculties. 

To these authorities may be added that of Dr. Camp« 
bell, who, after remarking, that " experience is the prin- 
" cipal organ of truth in all the branches of physiology," 
intimates, " that he employs this term to comprehend not 
" merely natural history, astronomy, geography, mechan-^ 
" ics, optics, hydrostatics, meteorology, medicine, chemis- 
" try, but also natural theology and psychology, which" 

* Wealth of Nations, Vol. III. pp. 163,, 166, 9th edit. 



20 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. I. 

(he observes), ** have been, in his opinion, most unnaturally 
*' disjoined from physiology by philosophers." — " Spirit 
(he adds), " which here comprises only the Supreme 
" Being and the human Soul, is surely as much included 
*' under the notion of natural object, as body is; and is 
** knowable to the philosopher purely in the same way, 
*' by observation and experience."*- 

In what manner the philosophy of the human mind 
came to be considered as a branch of metaphysics, and 
to be classed with the frivolous sciences which are com- 
monly included under the same name, is well known to 
all who are conversant with literary history. It may be 
proper, however, to mention here, for the information of 
some of my readers, that the word Metaphysics is of no 
older date than the publication of Aristotle's works by 
Andronicus of Rhodes, one of the learned men into 
whose hands the manuscripts of that philosopher fell, 
after they were brought by Sylla from Athens to Rome. 
To fourteen books in these manuscripts, which had no 
distinguishing title, Andronicus is said to have prefixed 
the words, Tct^ [mto. toL <pva-iKoc, either to denote the place 
which they occupied in Aristotle's own arrangement, (im- 

* Philosophy of Rhetoric, Vol. I. p. 143 (1st edit.) — It were to be 
wished, that Locke and Campbell, in the passages quoted above, 
had made use of the word mind instead of spirit^ which seems to 
imply a hypothesis concerning the nature or essence of the sentient 
or thinking principle, altogether unconnected with our conclusions 
concerning its phenomena and their general laws. For the same 
reason, I am disposed to object to the words Pneumatology and 
Psychology; the former of which was introduced by the schoolmen; 
.and the latter, which appears to me equally exceptionable, has been 
sanctioned by the authority of some late writers of considerable notej 
in particular of Dr. Campbell, and of Dr. Bcattie, 



qhap. 1] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION, 21 

mediately after the physics), or to point out that which 
it appeared to the Editor they ought to hold in the order 
of study. 

Notwithstanding the miscellaneous nature of these 
books, the Peripatetics seem to have considered them as 
all belonging to one science; the great object of which 
they conceived to be, first, to treat of those attributes 
which are common to Matter and to Mind; secondly, of 
things separate from Matter; particularly of God, and of 
the subordinate Minds which they supposed to carry on 
the physical changes exhibited in the universe. A notion 
of Metaphysics nearly the same was adopted by the Peri- 
patetics of the Christian church. They distinguished its 
two branches by the tides of Ontology and Natural The- 
ology; the former relating to Being in general, the latter 
to God and to Angels. To these branches the schoolmen 
added the Philosophy of the Human Mind, as relating to 
an immaterial substance; distinguishing this last science 
by the title of Pneumatology. 

From this arrangement of Natural Theology, and of the 
Philosophy of the Human Mind, they were not very 
likely to prosper, as they gradually came to be studied 
with the same spirit as Ontology, which may safely be 
pronounced to be the most idle and absurd speculation 
that ever employed the human faculties. Nor has the evil 
been yet remedied by the contempt into which the school- 
men have fallen in more modern times. On the contrary, 
as their arrangement of the objects of Metaphysics is still 
very generally retained, the Philosophy of the Mind is 
not unfrequently understood, even by those who have a 
predilection for the study of it, as a speculation much 
more analogous to Ontology than to Physics; while., in 



22 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. (€h^p.t 

the public opinion, notwithstanding the new aspect it 
begins to assume, in consequence of the lights struck out 
by Bacon, Locke, and their followers, it continues to 
share largely in that discredit, which has been justly in- 
curred by the greater part of those discussions, to which, 
in common with it, the epithet Metaphysical is indiscrimi- 
nately applied by the multitude, 

I have been led into this detail, not from the most dis- 
tant idea of proposing any alteration in that use of the 
words Metaphysics and Physics, which has now univer- 
sally obtained, but merely to guard myself against the 
charge of aifectation or singularity, when I so often recur 
in these pages to the analogy between the inductive 
science of Mind, and the inductive science of Matter. 
The attempt which has been made by some very ingeni- 
ous writers of late, to dispute the claims of the former to 
so honourable an affinity, must plead my apology for the 
length of the preceding discussion; as well as for some re- 
marks which I now propose to offer, upon the arguments 
which have been alleged in opposition to its pretensions. 
To myself, I must own, that the more I reflect on the 
subject, the more close and striking does the analogy 
appear. 



Chap. II.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 



CHAPTER SECOND, 

When I first ventured to appear before the public 35 
an author, I resolved that nothing should ever induce me 
to enter into any controversy in defence of my conclusions, 
but to leave them to stand or to fall by their own evidence. 
From the plan of inductive investigation which I was con- 
scious of having steadily followed, as far as I was able, I 
knew, that whatever mistakes might be detected in the 
execution of my design, no such fatal consequences were 
to be dreaded to my general undertaking, as might have 
been justly apprehended, had I presented to the world a 
connected system, founded on gratuitous hypotheses, or 
on arbitrary definitions. The detections, on the contrary, 
of my occasional errors, would, I flattered myself, from 
the invariable consistency and harmony of truth, throw 
new lights on those inquiries which I had conducted with 
greater success; as the correction of a trifling misstate- 
ment in an authentic history is often found, by complet- 
ing an imperfect link, or reconciling a seeming contra* 
diction, to dispel the doubts which hung over the more 
faithful and accurate details of the narrative. 

In this hope, I was fortified by the following sentence 
of Lord Bacon, which I thought I might apply to myself 
without incurring the charge of presumption. " Nos au- 
" tem, si qua in re vel male credidimus, vel obdormivimus 
" et minus attendimus, vel defecimus in via et inquisi^ 



24 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. II. 

'' tionem abriipimus, nihilo minus us biodis res nu- 
"das et apertas exhibemus, lit errores nostri notari 
" et separari possint; atque ctiatn, ut facilis et expedita 
" sit laborum nostrorum continiialio." 

As this indifference, however, about the fate of my par- 
ticular doctrines, arose from a deep-rooted conviction, 
both of the importance of my subject, and of the sound- 
ness of my plan, it was impossible for me to be insensible 
to such criticisms as were directed against either of these 
two fundamental assumptions. Some criticisms of this 
description I had, from the first, anticipated; and I would 
not have failed to obviate them in the introduction to my 
former work, if I had not been afraid to expose myself 
to the imputation of prolixity, by conjuring up objections 
for the purpose of refuting them. I lojiged, therefore, for 
an opportunity of being able to state these objections in 
the less suspicious words of another; and still more in the 
words of some writer, whose talents might contribute to 
draw the public attention to an argument, in which I con- 
ceived the credit of my favourite studies to be so peculi- 
arly interested. For such an opportunity, I am indebted 
to a very able article in the Edinburgh Review; in reply- 
ing to which I shall have occasion to obviate most of the 
objections which I had foreseen, as well as various others 
which, I must own, had never occurred to me.* 

The censures which, in this article, fall personally on 
myself, are expressed with a delicacy well entitled to my 
sincere thanks, and are intermingled with many flatter- 
ing expressions of regard from my unknown, but friendly 
critic: — and of the more general and weighty animad- 

* Edinburgh Review, Vol. Ill, p. 269, et seq. 



Ghap. II.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 25 

versions on the practical utility of my studies, I have but 
little reason to complain, when I consider, that they apply 
with equal force, not only to such writers as Locke, Con- 
dillac, and Reid, but, in a far greater degree, to the Father 
of Experimental Philosophy. How exactly those views 
of mine, which have, on this occasion, been called in 
question, coincide with the general spirit of the Novum 
Organum^ will, I trust, appear from the following remarks; 
which will amount much less to a laboured defence of 
my own opinions, than to a correction of what I conceive 
to be a very mistaken representation of Lord Bacon's 
doctrines, t 

" Inductive philosophy," (we are told) " or that which 
" proceeds upon the careful observation of facts, may be 
" applied to two different classes of phenomena. The first 
*^ are those that can be made the subject of proper experi- 
" ment, where the substances are actually in our power, 
*' and the judgment and artifice of the inquirer can be efifec- 
" tually employed to arrange and combine them in such a 
** way as to disclose their most hidden properties and rela- 

t My desire to obviate the effect of these mis-statements must 
apologize for the Latin extracts from Bacon, with which I am obliged 
to load a few pages of this Dissertation. I once intended to have trans- 
lated them; but found myself quite unable to preserve the weighty 
and authoritative tone of the original. There is something, besides 
in the ifisissima verba employed by Bacon, which every person, much 
conversant with his works, regards with a sort of religious reve- 
rence; and which, certainly, lays hold of the imagination and of the 
memory with peculiar facility and force. I wish, at the same time, 
most anxiously to see an English version of the Novum Organum, 
executed by some skilful hand, in order to bring it within the reach 
of a more numerous class of readers. I do not know a more accept- 
able service which any individual could render tophilo-sophy; and the 
extreme difficulty of the task, would render it an undertaking worthy 
of the greatest talents. 

D 



Q6 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Ghap.U, 

tions. The other class of phenomena are those that oc- 
cur in substances that are placed altogether beyond 
our reach, the order and succession of which we are 
generally unable to control, and as to which we can do 
little more than collect and record the laws by which 
they appear to be governed. These substances are not the 
object of experiment, but of observation; and the know- 
ledge we may obtain, by carefully watching their varia- 
tions, is of a kind that do^s not directly increase the 
power which we might otherwise have had over them. 
It seems evident, however, that it is principally in the 
former of these departments, or the strict experimental 
philosophy, that those splendid improvements have been 
made, v/hich haveverected so vast a trophy to the pro- 
spective genius of Bacon. The astronomy of sir Isaac 
Newton is no exception to this general remark; all 
that mere observation could do to determine the move- 
ments of the heavenly bodies, had been accomplished 
by the star-gazers who preceded him; and the law of 
gravitation, which he afterwards applied to the planetary 
system, was first calculated and ascertained by experi- 
ments performed upon substances which were intirely 
at his disposal. 

** It will scarcely be denied, either, that it is almost ex- 
clusively to this department of experiment that Lord 
Bacon has directed the attention of his followers. His 
fundamental maxim is, that knowledge is power; and 
the great problem which he constantly aims at resolving, 
is, in what manner the nature of any substance or quality 
may, by experiment, be so detected and ascertained, 
as to enable us to manage it at our pleasure. The great- 
er part of the Novum Organum, accordingly, is taken 



Chap. II.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 27 

" up with rules and examples for contriving and conduc- 
" ting experiments; and the chief advantage which he 
*' seems to have expected from the progress of these in- 
" quiries, appears to be centered in the enlargement of 
** man's dominion over the material universe which he 
" inhabits. To the mere observer, therefore, his laws of 
" philosophizing, except where they are prohibitory laws, 
^* have but little application; and to such an inquirer, the 
** rewards of his philosophy scarcely ai>pear to have been 
" promised. It is evident, indeed, that no direct utility 
** can result from the most accurate observations of oc- 
" currences which we cannot control; and that, for the 
" uses to which such observations may afterwards be 
" turned, we are indebted, not so much to the obser- 
" ver, as to the person who discovered the application. 
*' It also appears to be pretty evident, that, in the art of 
'* observation itself, no very great or fundamental im- 
*' provement can be expected. Vigilance and attention 
" are all that can ever be required in any observer; and 
" though a talent for methodical arrangement may facili- 
'^ tate to others the study of the facts that have been col- 
'* lected, it does not appear how our knowledge of these 
'* facts can be increased, by any new method of descri- 
'' bing them. Facts that we are unable to modify or di- 
" rect, in short, can only be the objects of observation; and 
*' observation can only inform us that they exist, and that 
" their succession appears to be governed by certain gene- 
*' ral laws. 

*' In the proper experimental philosophy, every acqui- 
" sition of knowledge is an increase of power; because 
" the knowledge is necessarily derived from some inten« 
" tional disposition of materials, which we may always 



28 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. XL 

" command in the same manner. In the philosophy of 
" observation, it is merely a gratification of our curiosity. 
" By experiment, too, we generally acquire a pretty cor- 
" rect knowledge of tliQ causes of the phenomena we pro- 
" duce, as we ourselves distribute and arrange the cir- 
^' cumstances upon which diey depend; while, in matters^ 
*' of mere observation, the assignment of causes must al- 
" ways be, in a good degree, conjectural, inasmuch as wc 
" have no means of separating the preceding phenomena, 
" or deciding otherwise than by analogy, to which of them 
** the succeeding event is to be attributed." 

As the whole of this passage tends to depreciate the im- 
portance of a very large department of Physics, no less 
than of the science of Mind, the discussion to which it 
leads becomes interesting to Philosophers of every de- 
scription; and, therefore, it is unnecessary for me to make 
any apology, either for the length of the quotation, or for 
that of the examination which I propose to bestow on it. 
It is sufficient for me to remind my readers, that, in the 
remarks which follow, I plead the cause not only of Locke 
and his followers, but of such star-gazers as Tycho- 
Brahe, Kepler, Galileo, and Copernicus. 

That it is by means of experiments^ judiciously con- 
ducted, that the greater part of the discoveries in modern 
physics have been made, I readily admit. Nay, I am sa- 
tisfied, that it is by a skilful use of this great organ of 
investigation, much more than by any improvements in 
the art of observing the spontaneous appearances of the 
universe, that the physical inquiries of Bacon's followers 
are chiefly characterized, when contrasted with those of 
the ancient schools. The astronomical cycles handed 
down to us from the most remote antiquity; the immense 



Chap. 11] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 29 

treasure of facts with respect to natural history, preserved 
in the works of Aristotle and of Pliny; and the singularly 
accurate histories of the phenomena of disease, which 
some of the Greek physicians are allowed to have be- 
queathed to posterity, abundantly justify the remark 
which was long ago made by a medical writer, that " if 
** the ancients were not accustomed to interrogate Nature, 
** they, at least, listened to her with an unremitted atten- 
*' tion/'* 

In farther illustration of the utility of experiment, it 
may be remarked, that in proportion as a particular 
science opens a field to address and invention, in thus ex- 
torting the secrets of Nature, the rate of its progress is 
subjected to human genius and industry. What is the 
great cause of the uncertainty in which medicine conti- 
nues to be involved? Is it not, that, in addition to the 
difficulties which it has to struggle with, in common with 
the other branches of physical knowledge, it depends, 
more than any of the rest, upon accident for its improve- 
ment? ThQ experimentum periculosufTiy ^nd judicium diffi- 
cile are complaints as old as the time of Hippocrates. 

While, however, I make this concession in favour of 
experiment, as the most powerful organ we can employ in 
the study of Nature; and admit, in their fullest extent, 
the advantages peculiar to those sciences in which we can, 
at pleasure, avail ourselves of its aid; I must be allowed 
to add, that I -am unable to perceive the slightest connec- 
tion between the premises and the conclusion they have 
been employed to establish. The difference between ex^ 
periment and observation, consists merely in the compara- 

* Van Doeveren. 



30 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap.U. 

tive rapidity with which they accomplish their discove- 
ries; or rather in the comparative command we possess 
over them, as instruments for the investigation of truth. 
The discoveries of both, when they are actually effected, 
are so precisely of the same kind, that it may safely be 
affirmed, there is not a single proposition true of the one, 
which will not be found to hold equally with respect to 
the other. It ought to be remembered, too, that it is in 
hose branches of knowledge, where there is least room 
for experiment, and where the laws of nature are only to 
be detected by cautiously collecting and combining a mul- 
titude of casual observations, that the merits of the phi- 
losopher are the greatest, where he succeeds in his re- 
searches. 

That the conclusions of the astronomical observer, 
with respect to the laws by which the phenomena of the 
heavens are regulated, contribute, in any degree, to ex- 
tend the sphere of his power over the objects of his study, 
no star-gazer^ so far as I know, has yet boasted. But have 
these conclusions had no effect in extending his power 
over that scene where he is himself destined to be the 
principal actor? Have they contributed nothing to the 
progress of chronology and of geography; or to the im- 
provement of that art which, by guiding his course across 
the pathless ocean, has completed the empire of man over 
the globe? One thing, at least, is evident, that Newton's 
discovery of the law of Gravitation, notwithstanding the 
experiments which supplied him with some data essential 
to his results, has added nothing to the pov/er of man, 
the utility of which does not resolve into the same gene- 
ral principle, with that of the observations of Tycho- 
Brahe, and of Kepler. The planetary system still remains 



Chap. 11.3 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 31 

as little subject to our control as before; and all that we 
have gained is, that, by synthetical reasonings from the 
theory of gravitation, we have been enabled to ascertain 
various astronomical elements of the highest practical 
utility, with a precision which mere observation was 
incompetent to attain. 

It is indeed true, ^' that for the uses to which astrono- 
'* mical and all other observations may be turned, we are 
'* indebted, not so much to the observer, as to the person 
" who discovered the application." But is not the case 
exactly the same with the knowledge we derive directly 
from experiment? and what are the respects in which 
the mere Observer sinks below the level of the mere 
Empiric? 

With regard to astronomical observations, it must be 
farther acknowledged, that they bestow on Man no me- 
chanical power over the heavens, analogous to the com- 
mand he has acquired over fire, water, steam, the strength 
of the lower animals, and various other physical agents. 
But this is owing chiefly to the distances and magnitudes 
of the objects to which the astronomer directs his atten- 
tion; circumstances quite unconnected with any specific 
difference between the knowledge acquired by observa- 
tion and by experiment. Indeed, in the case of the physical 
agents first mentioned, it may be fairly questioned, which 
of these two organs of discovery has had the principal 
share in pointing them out to the notice of mankind. 

In compensation for the inability of the astronomer to 
control those movements of which he studies the laws, 
he may boast, as I already hinted, of the immense acces- 
sion of a more useful power which his discoveries have 
added to the human race> on the surface of their own 



32 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. II- 

planet. It would be endless to enumerate all the practical 
uses to which his labours are subservient. It is sufficient 
for me to repeat an old, but very striking reflection, that 
the only accurate knowledge which Man possesses of the 
surface of the Earth, has been derived from the previous 
knowledge he had acquired of the pheaomena of the Stars. 
Is it possible to produce a more apposite, or a more un- 
deniable proof of the universality of Bacon's maxim, that 
" knowledge is power ^^^ than a fact which demonstrates 
the essential aid which man has derived, in asserting his 
dominion over this lower world, from a branch of science 
which seems, at first view, fitted only to gratify a specu- 
lative curiosity; and which, in its infancy, served to amuse 
the leisure of the Chaldean shepherd? To those who have 
imbibed the spirit of Bacon's philosophy, it is superfluous 
to add, that it was in this refined and enlarged sense of 
his aphorism, far more than in its obvious and partial 
application to the new resources which experiments have 
occasionally lent to the mechanician, that Bacon himself 
wished to be understood, when he so often repeats it in 
the same words, with an air of triumph, in the course of 
his writings. 

Let us now attend to the application which is made of 
thesepreliminary considerations to the Human Mind. " The 
" science of Metaphysics (it is asserted) depends upon ob- 
'* servation and not upon experiment; and all reasonings 
'* upon Mind proceed accordingly upon a reference to that 
" general observation which all men are supposed to have 
*' made, and not on any particular experiments, which are 
** known only to the inventor. The province of Philoso- 
*' phy in this department, therefore, is the province of 
'' observation only; and in th;s department the greater 

9 



Ghap. II.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. S3 

" part of that code of laws, which Bacon has provided 
" for the regulation of experimental induction, is plainly 
" without authority. In Metaphysics^ certainly knowledge 
" is not power; and instead of producing new phenomena 
" to elucidate the old, by well-contrived and well-con- 
*' ducted experiments, the most diligent inquirer can do 
** no more than register and arrange the appearances, 
*' which he can neither account for nor control." — 

In proof of this, it is alleged, that " we feel, and pcr- 
" ceive, and remember, without any purpose or contriv- 
" ance of ours, and have evidently no power over the 
" mechanism by which those functions are performed. 
" We may describe and distinguish those operations of 
" mind, indeed, with more or less attention or exactness, 
" but we cannot subject them to experiment, nor alter 
" their nature by any process of investigation. We cannot 
** decompose our perceptions in a crucible, nor divide 
** our sensations with a prism; nor can we, by art and 
" contrivance, produce any combination of thoughts or 
" emotions, besides those with which all men are provi- 
" ded by nature. No metaphysician expects, by analysis, 
" to discover a new power, or to excite a new sensation 
" in the mind, as a chemist discovers a new earth, or a 
*' new metal; nor can he hope, by any process of synthe- 
" sis, to exhibit a mental combination, different from any 
" that nature has produced in the minds of other persons." 

So far as this reasoning proceeds merely on the alleged 

inferiority of observation to experiment, as a source of 

power, or of useful knowledge, I have nothing to add, in 

the way of refutation, to what I have already advanced. 

Supposing all the knowledge we possess of mind to be 

derived from observation solely, it would not therefore 

E 



34 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Cliap. II. 

follow, that the Philosophy of Mind must necessarily 
yield to Physics in practical utility. The difficulty of the 
study would, indeed, appear proportionally greater; but 
no inference could fairly be drawn, from this circum- 
stance, to depreciate the value of the conclusions to 
which it might lead. 

But is it, indeed, true, in the full latitude of the critic's 
assertion, that " the science of Metaphysics,"* — (mean- 
ing by that phrase, the Philosophy of the Human Mind) 
" depends upon observation, and not upon experiment?" 
Even, in the case o^ our perceptions, the most favourable 
by far for his purpose, which he could possibly have se- 
lected, this proposition seems to me altogether unfounded. 
We cannot, indeed, decompose them in a crucible, in 
the literal sense of these words; but is there no possi- 
bility of decomposing them by such experimental pro- 
cesses as are suited to the nature of the subject? Of this 
ho better proof can be given than Berkeley's Theory of 
Vision, more particularly his analysis of the means by 
which experience enables us to judge of the distances 
and magnitudes of objects. It is, at least, an attempt 
towards an experimental decomposition of our percep- 
tions; and, in my opinion (although I have always 
thought that a good deal is still wanting to render the 

* After what I have already said on the vagueness of the word 
Metaphysics, and the futility of most of the studies which are refer- 
red to that very comprehensive title, it is scarcely necessary for me 
to add, that, ip controverting the position which has just been quo- 
ted, I would be understood to confine my remarks solely to the in- 
ductive Philosophy of the Human Mind. That this was the science 
which the writer had in his eye, when he asserted, that "meta- 
physics depend upon observation, and not upon experiment," ap- 
pears manifestly from the whole of the context. 



Chap. II.] PRELIMINAIIY DISSERTATION. 35 

theory completely satisfactory) a most successful, as Well 
as original attempt, so far as it goes. Numberless illus- 
trations of the same thing might be produced from the 
subsequent speculations of Smith, Jurin, Porterfield, 
Reid, and others, with respect to those phenomena of 
vision which are immediately connected with the Philo- 
sophy of the Mind. Nor is it to this class of our per- 
ceptions alone, that the experimental researches of our 
predecessors have been confined. To draw the line be- 
tween the original and acquired perceptions which we 
receive by some of our other senses, more especially by 
those of hearing and of feeling, is a problem equally dif- 
ficult and interesting; and of which no pretended solution 
would, in the present times, attract one moment's notice, 
which rested on any other basis than that of experiment. 

I have confined myself, in what I have now said, to 
the researches of inductive philosophy concerning our 
perceptions; because this is the instance which the critic 
himseli* has thought proper to fix upon. The extensive 
province, however, of experiment in the science of mind, 
will appear in an incomparably stronger light to those 
who shall follow out the subject, by observing the use 
which has been made of this organ of investigation, in 
analysing the phenomena connected with some of our 
other intellectual powers; — the phenomena, for example, 
of Attention, of Association, of Habit in general, of Me- 
mory, of Imagination; and, above all, those which are 
connected with the use of Language, considered as an 
instrument of thought and of reasoning. 

The whole of a Philosopher's life, indeed, if he spends 
it to any purpose, is one continued series of experiments 
on his own faculties and powers; and the superiority he 



36 PRELIMINARY DISSERT ATIOJT. [Chap. IT, 

possesses over others, in a skilful application of them,, 
arises chiefly from the general rules (never, perhaps, ex- 
pressed verbally even to himself) which he has deduced 
from these experiments; — experiments, it must be grant- 
ed, not carried on by such instruments as prisms or cru- 
cibles, but by an apparatus better suited to the intellec- 
tual laboratory which furnishes their materials. Of this 
remark I hope to be able to produce some new illustra- 
tions, in that part of the following volume, in which 1 
propose to examine the process by which the acquired 
power of Taste is gradually formed. 

As to the minds of others, it is undoubtedly but sel- 
dom that we have the means of subjecting them to for- 
mal and premeditated experiments. But even here, many 
exceptions occur to the general assertion which I am now 
combating. What is the whole business of Education, 
when systematically andjudiciously conducted, but aprac- 
tical application of rules deduced from our own experi- 
ments, or from those of others, on the most effectual 
modes of developing and of cultivating the intellectual 
faculties and the moral pHnciples? I lay but little stress^ 
comparatively, on those rare, though inestimable oppor- 
tunities of gratifying an experimental curiosity, which 
are presented by the Blind and the Deaf, when they are 
qualified to give a distinct account of their peculiar per- 
ceptions, feelings, and habits of thought; nor on such 
extraordinary cases as that of the young man couched 
by Cheselden, whose simple and intelligent statement of 
what he experienced on his first introduction to the visi- 
ble world, discovers powers of observation and of reflec- 
tion, as well as of clear description, which do not appear 



Chap, n.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 37 

to have been equalled in any of the similar instances 
which have since occurred. 

To counterbalance the disadvantages which the Philo- 
sophy of Mind lies under, in consequence of its slender 
stock of experiments, made directly and intentionally on 
the minds of our fellow- creatures, Human Life exhibits 
to our observation a boundless variety, both of intellec- 
tual and moral phenomena; by a diligent study of which, 
we may ascertain almost every point that we could wish 
to investigate, if we had experiments at our command. 
The difference between observation and experiment, in 
this instance, considered as sources of knowledge, is 
merely nominal; amounting to nothing more than this, 
that the former presents spontaneously to a comprehen- 
sive and combining understanding, results exactly similar 
to those, which the latter would attempt to ascertain by 
a more easy and rapid process, if it possessed the oppor- 
tunity. Hardly, indeed, can any experiment be imagined, 
which has not already been tried by the hand of Nature; 
displaying, in the infinite varieties of human genius and 
pursuits, the astonishingly diversified effects, resulting 
from the possible combinations of those elementary fa- 
culties and principles, of which every man is conscious 
in himself. Savage society, and all the different modes 
of civilization; — the different callings and professions of 
individuals, whether liberal or mechanical;— the pre- 
judiced clown; — the factitious man of fashion; — the va- 
rying phases of character from infancy to old age; — the 
prodigies effected by human art in all the objects around 
us; — laws, — government, — commerce, — religion; — but 
above all, the records of thought, preserved in those vol- 
times which fill our libraries; what are they but expert- 



38 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. 11. 

mentSy by which Nature illustrates, for our instruction, 
on her own grand scale, the varied range of Man'i? intel- 
lectual faculties, and the omnipotence of Education in 
fashioning his mind? 

As to the remark, that " no metaphysician expects, 
by " analysis, to discover a new power, or to excite a 
" new sensation in the mind, as the chemist discovers a 
"new earth or a new m,etal," it is abundantly obvious, 
that it is no more applicable to the anatomy of the mind, 
than to the anatomy of the body. After all the researches 
of physiologists on this last subject, both in the way of 
observation and of experiment, no discovery has yet been 
made of a new organ, either of power or of pleasure, or 
even of the means of adding a cubit to the human sta- 
ture; but it does not therefore follow that these researches 
are useless. By enlarging his knowledge of his own in- 
ternal structure, they increase the power of man in that 
way in which alone they profess to increase it. They 
furnish him with resources for remedying many of the 
accidents to which his health and his life are liable; for 
recovering, in some cases, those active powers which 
disease has destroyed or impaired; and, in others, by 
giving sight to the blind, and hearing to the deaf, for 
awakening powers of perception which were dormant be- 
fore. Nor must we overlook what they have contributed, 
in conjunction with the arts of the optician and of the 
mechanist, to extend the sphere of those senses, and to 
prolong their duration. 

If we consider, in like manner, the practical purposes 
to which the anatomy of the Mind is subservient, we 
shall find the parallel infinitely to its advantage. What 
has Medicine yet effected in increasing the bodily pow- 



Chap. II.] PRELIMINATIY DISSERTATION. 39 

ers of man, in remedying his diseases, or in lengthening 
life, which can bear a moment's comparison with the 
prodigies effected by Education, in invigorating his in- 
tellectual capacities; in forming his moral habits; in deve- 
loping his sensitive principles; and in unlocking all the 
hidden sources of internal enjoyment? Nor let ti be ob- 
jected, that education is not a branch of the Philosophy 
of the Human Mind. So far as it is effectual and salutary, 
it is founded on those principles of our nature which 
have forced themselves on general observation, in conse- 
quence of the experience of ages. So far as it is injudi- 
cious and hurtful, it proceeds upon speculative errors 
and prejudices, which juster views of the Philosophy of 
the Mind can alone correct. Would it not necessarily be 
rendered more systematical and enlightened, if the pow- 
ers and faculties on which it operates, were more scien- 
tifically examined, and better understood? The medical 
art, it must be remembered, had made no inconsiderable 
progress, before anatomy was regarded as a necessary 
preparation for the study. It is disputed, whether Hip- 
pocrates himself ever dissected a human subject; and 
Galen is said to have undertaken a journey to Alexan- 
dria, merely to gratify his curiosity by the sight of a 
skeleton. 

It is curious, that the objection which we are now con- 
sidering to the Philosophy of the Mind, is the very same 
in substance with that which Socrates urged against the 
speculations of natural philosophers in his age. *' He 
" would ask," (says Xenophon) " concerning these busy 
" inquirers into the nature of such things as are only to 
" be produced by a divine power,-— whether, as those 
** artists who have been instructed in some art, believe 



40 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. M. 

" they are able to practise it at pleasure, so they, having 
" found out the immediate cause ^ believe they shall be 
** able, for their own benefit, or that of others, to pro- 
** duce winds and rain, the vicissitudes of time, or the 
" change of seasons? or if, indeed, altogether destitute of 
*' this hope, they could content themselves with such 
^^ fruitless knowledge? 

" As for himself, Man, and what related to Man, were 
" the only subjects on which he chose to employ his in- 
'^ quiries and his conversation."^' 

I have quoted these sentences, chiefly as they afford 
me an opportunity of remarking, that, whereas the scep- 
ticism of modern Europe has been confined, in a great 
measure, to the Philosophy of Mind, that of antiquity 
was directed more particularly tp the theories which pre- 
tended to explain the phenomena of the Material Universe. 
That Socrates, with all his zeal for the advancement of 
Moral Science, was a complete sceptic in what is now 
called Physics, appears sufficiently from the account 
given of his studies in the first chapter of the Memora- 
bilia. Nor will this seem at all surprising to those who re- 
flect on the unprofitable questions, about which (as wc 
learn from the same authority) the inquiries of Natural 
Philosophers were then employed. After the physical dis- 
coveries, indeed, which have distinguished the two last 
centuries, the scepticism of this truly wise man is apt to 
strike us, at first sight, as altogether weak and puerile; 
but does not this very consideration afford to those, who 
now cultivate the inductive Philosophy of Mind, some 

* TranslatieB of the Memorabilia, by Mrs. Fielding. For the rest of 
the passage (to which no version can do justice) I must refer to the 
originaJ. 

2 



Chap. II.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 41 

ground of hope, that the day may yet come, when a juster 
estimate will be formed of the value of their labours? 

It is not, however, ox\ future contingencies that I will 
rest my present argument. Notwithstanding the obscu- 
rity and uncertainty which continue to involve various 
important questions connected with the theory of our in- 
ternal frame, I do not scruple to contrast, as an organ of 
Human Power and of Human Happiness, the Science of 
Mind, even in its present state of infancy, with the disco- 
veries which have immortalized the names of Boyle and 
of Newton. Nor will this assertion seem extravagant or 
paradoxical, if the following profound observations of 
Bacon be compared with the value of that gift which he 
himself bequeathed to posterity. 

" Non abs re fuerit, tria hominum ambitionis genera et 
" quasi gradus distinguere. Primum eorum, qui propriam 
*' potentiam in patria sua amplificare cupiunt; quod genus 
" vulgare est et degenen Secundum eorum, qui patriae 
" potentiam et imperium inter humanum genus amplifi- 
" care nituntur: illud plus certe habet dignitatis, cupidi- 
" tatis haud minus. Quod si quis humani generis ipsius 
" potentiam et imperium in rerum universitatem instau- 
" rare et amplificare conetur; ea proculdubio ambitio (si 
** modo ita vocanda sit) reliquis et sanior est et augus- 
*' tior. Hominis autem imperium in res, in solis artibus et 
" scientiis ponitur. Nature enim non imperatur^ 

** NISI PARENDO.'' 

" Praeterea, si unius alicujus particularis inventi utiU- 
" tas ita homines affecerit, ut eum, qui genus humanum 
" universum beneficio aliquo devincire potuerit, homine 
'* majorem putaverint, quanto Celsius videbitur, tale all- 

F 



42 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. U. 

" quid invenire, per quod alia omnia expedite inveniri pos- 
" sint." 

In order to depreciate the philosophical merits of Bacon, 
I have sometimes heard an enumeration attempted, of im- 
portant discoveries which have been made, since the pub- 
lication of the Novum Organum, by individuals who ne- 
ver read that work; nor, in all probability, were aware of 
its existence. The alleged fact, on which this argument 
proceeds, I am not disposed to controvert; for, granting 
it in its fullest extent, little stress will be laid on it by 
those who have duly attended to the slow and indirect 
process by which the influence of such writings as those 
of Bacon must necessarily descend, from the higher to the 
lower classes of intellectual workmen. Their immediate 
operation cannot possibly extend beyond the narrow cir- 
cle of inquirers, who, to an enlarged and unprejudiced 
understanding, add the rare capacity of entering into ab- 
stract and general reasonings. In the investigations of this 
small and select class of readers, the logical rules to which 
these reasonings lead, are, in the first instance, exempli- 
fied; and when the example has once been set, it may be 
successfully copied by thousands who never heard of the 
rules, nor are capable of comprehending the principles on 
which they are founded. It is in this manner that the par- 
amount influence of the Philosophy of Mind, on the sub- 
ordinate sciences and arts, escapes the notice of those 
who are unable to look beyond palpable and proximate 
causes; and who forget that, in the intellectual as well as 
in the material world, whatever is accomplished by the 
division and distribution of labour, must be ultimately- 
referred to the comprehensive design of the mechanist, \. 
who planned and combined the whole. 



ehap.II.3 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 43 

Of this disposition to detract from Bacon's fame, I cer- 
tainly do not mean to accuse the learned and ingenious 
writer who has given occasion to these strictures, and 
who acknowledges fairly, the mighty influence which Ba- 
con's works have had on the subsequent progress of ex- 
perimental science. I must own, however, that, in my 
opinion, he would have reasoned more consistently, if he 
had asserted the contrary; for, after this admission, how 
is it possible that he should dispute the practical utility 
of the Philosophy of the Mind; the improvement of which 
is manifestly the great object of Bacon, from the begin- 
ning to the end of his work? If, in reply to this, it should 
be argued, that the Philosophy of the Mind means some- 
thing different from what is commonly called Metaphy- 
sics; I have only to express my complete assent to the 
justness of the distinction; and my regret, that, after the 
repeated attempts I have made to illustrate it, an advan- 
tage should, in one or two passages of this article, have 
been taken of the vagueness of popular language, to dis- 
credit, by means of an obnoxious appellation, one of the 
most important, and, at the same time, one of the most 
neglected departments of human knowledge. 

To what branch of science Lord Bacon himself con- 
ceived the speculations in the Novum Organum to belong, 
appears from various passages which it contains. One of 
these is more particularly remarkable, as it explicitly 
guards the readers of that work against inferring, from 
the multiplicity of physical illustrations with which it 
abounds, that his object is to instruct them with respect 
to the phenomena of matter, when his real aim is to de- 
duce, from the laws of the Human Mind, such logical 
rules as may guide them in the search of truth. 



44 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. IL 

" Illud vero monendum, nos in hoc nostro organo trac- 
*' tare logicam, non philosophiam. Sed cum logica nostra 
'' doceat intellectum et erudiat ad hoc, ut non tenuibus 
" mentis quasi claviculis, rerum abstracta captet et pren- 
*' set (ut logica vulgaris); sed naturam revera persecet, et 
" corporum virtutes et actus, eorumque leges in materia 
*' determinatas inveniat; ita ut non solum ex natura men- 
'* tis^ sed ex natura rerum quoque hasc scientia emanet: 
" mirari non est, si ubique naturalibus contemplationibus 
" et experimentis, ad exempla artis nostrae, conspersa 
" fuerit et illustrata.*' 

It is perfectly manifest from the context, that by philo- 
sophy Lord Bacon here means the particular branches of 
the study of Nature, in oppposition to that science (one 
of the most important departments of the philosophy of 
the mind) which professes to comprehend them all in its 
survey, and to furnish the means of their advancement. 
To this science he elsewhere gives the name of Philoso- 
phia Prima; pointing out, by a happy and beautiful allu- 
sion, its pre-eminence among the rest, both in dignity and 
in practical importance. 

" Alius error est, quod post singulas scientias et artes 
" suas in classes distributas, mox a plerisque universali 
" rerum cognitioni et philosophic prima renunciatur; 
" quod quidem profectui doctrinarum inimicissimum est. 
" Prospectationes fiunt a turribus, aut locis praealtis, et 
*' impossibile est, ut quis exploret remotiores interiores- 
''que scientise alicujus partes, si stet super piano ejus- 
"dem scientiae, neque altioris scientiae veluti speculum 
" conscendat." 

That Bacon's philosophy, too, was constantly present 
to my thoughts, when I have dwelt, in any of my publi- 



Chap. 11.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 45 

cations, on the importance of the philosophy of the hu- 
man mind, must be evident to all who have read them 
with attention. In proof of this, I shall only appeal, at pre- 
sent, to the illustrations I have given of the utility of the 
study, in the introduction to my former volume. The 
/' sanguine and extravagant expectations*' which I am 
accused of having formed, with respect to the advantages 
likely to result from its future improvement, will be found, 
from every page of my book, to resolve chiefly into a con- 
viction (founded on the astonishing success with which 
the labours of Bacon's folio w^ers have been attended), that 
much may yet be done to direct and accelerate the progress 
of the mind, by completing that undertaking to which he 
gave a beginning. When we reflect on the low state in 
which even physical science, strictly so called, was at the 
period when he attempted to lay down the rules accord- 
ing to which philosophical inquiries ought to be prose- 
cuted, this conviction cannot well appear either very un- 
natural or very romantic. 

- But it is not merely as an organon for the advance- 
ment of physics, that the science of mind is valuable. It 
furnishes, in itself, a field of study, equally interesting 
and important; and far more intimately connected than is 
commonly supposed, with all the arts which contribute 
to the stability, to the ornament, and to the happiness of 
civilized society. 

How far this assertion is agreeable to Bacon's own 
views; or w^hether it be true, as has been affirmed, that 
" the chief advantage which he expected from his inqui- 
" ries, appears to have been centered in the enlargement 
"of man's dominion over the material universe," — can 
be decided only by an appeal to his wTitings. Whatever 



46 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. U. 

opinion we may adopt on this point, it must be granted 
on both sides, not only that, in tlie occasional passages 
where he touches on the science of mind, his observa- 
tions are just and profound, but that the whole of his 
philosophical works form one continued exemplification 
of the plan on which this study ought to be conducted. 
— Here we meet with no hypothesis concerning the es- 
sence of the mind, or the nature of its connection with 
our bodily organization; but with a few important con- 
clusions concerning the human understanding, obtained 
by a cautious induction from \ho^Q phenomena of thought, 
which every man may ascertain by reflecting on the sub- 
jects of his own consciousness. Although it should be 
contended, therefore, that the advancement of the philo- 
sophy of mind was but a subordinate object in Bacon's 
general plan, it cannot possibly be disputed, that it is to 
his singularly just views on the subject, that we are in- 
debted for all the scientific aids we have derived from 
his genius. 

Whether Bacon himself considered the utility of his 
Organum as exclusively confined to inquiries relating to 
the material universe, and had no view to its application 
in guiding our analytical researches concerning the in- 
tellectual faculties or active principles of the mind, may 
be judged of from his own words. 

" Etiam dubitabit quispiam potius quam objiciet; 
" utrum nos de naturali tantum philosophia, an etiam de 
" scientiis reliquis, logicis, ethicis, politicis, secundum 
" viam nostram perficiendis loquamur. At nos certe de 
'' universis haec, quae dicta sunt, intelligimus: Atque 
** quemadmodum vulgaris logica, qu^ regit res per syllo- 
** gismum, non tantum ad Natu rales, sed ad omnes scien- 



Qhap. IL] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 47 

*' tias pertinet; ita et nostra, qu2e procedit per induc- 
*' tionem, omnia complectitur. Tarn enim historiam et 
" tabulas inveniendi conficimus de ira, metu^ et verecun- 
** dia^ el similibus; ac etiam de exemplis rerum civilium; 
" nee minus- de motibus metalibus memoria^ composu 
" tionis et divisionis^judicii^ et reliquorum; quam de calidoy 
" Gtjrigido aut luce^ aut vegetatione, aiit similibus." 

The effects which Bacon's writings have hitherto pro- 
duced, have indeed been far more conspicuous in physics 
than in the science of mind. Even here, however, they 
have been great and most important, as well as in some 
collateral branches of knowledge (such as natural juris- 
prudence, political economy, criticism, and morals) which 
spring up from the same root, or rather which are branches 
of that tree of which the science of mind is the trunk. 
Of the truth of this assertion I shall afterwards have oc- 
casion to produce abundant evidence. 

That our conclusions concerning the principles and 
laws of the human constitution differ, in many respects, 
from discoveries in physics, I do not deny; nor will I enter 
into a verbal dispute with those who maintain that the 
word discovery is in no sense applicable to these conclu- 
sions. It is sufficient for my purpose to remark, that this 
criticism, admitting it to be just, ought not, in any res- 
pect, to lower our estimate of their practical value, or of 
the merits of the writers to whom we owe them. Among 
Bacon's Aphorisms there is not one single sentence which 
contains a discovery^ as that word has been lately defined; 
but what discoveries can vie with them in the accessions 
which they have brought to the happiness and to the power 
of the human race?* 

* D\ilembeTt was one of the first who insisted on this nicety in 



48 PltCLlMINARY DtSSERTATION. [Chap. IL 

In farther prosecution of the argument against the 
importance of the science of mind, it has been observed, 
that " from the very nature of the subject, it seems neces- 
*' sarily to follow, that all men must be practically familiar 
" with all the functions and qualities of their minds, and 
^* with almost ail the laws by which they appear to be 
" governed. Every one knows exactly what it is to per- 
"ceive and to feel, to remember, imagine, and believe; 
" and though he may not always apply the words that de- 
** note these operations with perfect propriety, it is not 
*^ possible to suppose that any one is ignorant of the things. 
" Even those laws of thought or connections of mental 
" operations that are not so commonly stated in words, 
** appear to be universally known, and are found to regu- 
** late the practice of those who never thought of announ- 
** cing them in an abstract proposition. A man who never 
** heard it asserted, that memory depends upon attention, 
'* yet attends with uncommon care to any thing that he 
" wishes to remember; and accounts for his forgetfulness, 
*' by acknowledging that he had paid no attention. A grooni 
** who never heard of the association of ideas, feeds the 

the use of the word discovery. In one passage he seems to exclude 
the possibility of dicoveries from mathematics as well as metaphy- 
sics; and what is still more curious, to do so, on account of the perfect 
evidence which it is possible for us to attain in both these sciences. 

'^ La reflexion, en partant des idees directes, peut suivre deux 
^' routes difFerentes: ou elle compare les qualites des corps, et alors, 
" d*abstractions en abstractions, elle arrive aux notions les plus sim- 
^' pies, ceiJes de cjuantitSs; ou bien elle se reporte sur ces operations 
" meme qui ont servi d la formation des idees, et remonte ainsi aux 
" elemens de \z.mStafiJnjdque. Ces deux sciences, \2< geometric et la 
" metafihydque^ quoiqu' analogues entr*elles, sont done les deux 
*' termes extremes et opposes de nos connoissances. Entr'elles est un 
'' monde immense, Vabime des incertitudes et le theatre des dScou- 
'^ T?ertes."-^Disc. Prelim, a TEncycIop. 



Chap. II.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 49 

** young war-horse to the sound of the drum; and the un- 
" philosophical artists that tame elephants and dancing- 
" dogs, proceed upon the same obvious and admitted 
" principle." 

This argument, I suspect, leads a Uttle too far for the 
purpose of its author, inasmuch as it concludes still more 
forcibly (in consequence of the greater familiarity of the 
subject,) against Physics, strictly so called, than against 
the Science of Mind. The Savage, who never heard of 
the accelerating force of gravity, yet knows how to add to 
the momentum of his missile weapons, by gaining an emi- 
nence; though a stranger to Newton's third law of motion, 
he applies it to its practical use, when he sets his canoe 
afloat, by pushing with a pole against the shore: — in the 
use of his sling, he illustrates, with equal success, the 
doctrine of centrifugal forces, as he exemplifies (without 
any knowledge of the experiments of Robins) the princi- 
ple of the rifle- barrel in feathering his arrow. The same 
groom who, *' in feeding his young war-horse to the 
*' sound of the drum," has nothing to learn from Locke or 
from Hume concerning the laws of association, might 
boast, with far greater reason, that, without having looked 
into Borelli, he can train that animal to his various paces; 
and that, when he exercises him with the longe^ he ex- 
hibits an experimental illustration of the centrifugal force, 
and of the centre of gravity, which was known in the 
riding-school long before their theories were unfolded in 
the Principia of Newton. Even the operations of the ani- 
mal which is the subject of his discipline, seem to involve 
an acquaintance with the same physical laws, when we 
attend to the mathematical accuracy with which he adapts 
the obliquity of his body to the rate of his circular speed* 

G 



50 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [CUap. IL 

In both cases (in that of the man as well as of the brute) 
this practical knowledge is obtruded on the organs of ex- 
ternal sense by the hand of nature herself: but it is not on 
that account the less useful to evolve the general theorems 
which are thus embodied with their particular applications; 
and to combine them in a systematical and scientific form, 
for our own instruction and that of others. Does it detract 
from the value of the theory of pneumatics to remark, that 
the same effects of a vacuum, and of the elasticity and pres- 
sure of the air, which afford an explanation of its most cu- 
rious phenomena, are recognized in an instinctive process 
coeval with the first breath which we draw; and exem- 
plified in the mouth of every babe and suckling? 

When one of the unphilosophical artists of the Circus 
gallops his round, standing or dancing upon his horse's 
back, and tosses up an orange, which he is afterwards to 
receive on the point of a sword, he presents to us an exem- 
plification of some physical truths, connected with the most 
refined conclusionsof science. To say nothing of the centri- 
fugal power, or of the centre of gravity, the single experi- 
ment of the orange, affords an illustration of the composition 
of forces, so apposite and so palpable, that it would have 
furnished Copernicus with a triumphant reply to the ca- 
vils of his adversaries against the motion of the earth. 

What an immense stock of scientific principles lie 
buried amid the details of manufactures and of arts! We 
may judge of this from an acknowledgment of Mr. Boyle, 
that he had learned more by frequenting the shops of 
tradesmen than from all the volumes he had read. 

How many beautiful exemplifications of the most sub- 
lime mechanical truths are every day exhibited by the most 
illiterate of the people! Nay, how great is the suj^eriority, 



(^liap. IL] PRELTMINARY DISSERTATION. 51 

in point of promptitude and address, which some of these 
unphilosophical artists display, in circumstances where 
the most profound mechanician would be totally at a loss 
how to avail himself of his knowledge! The philosopher 
himself, the first time he is at sea, cannot cease to wonder, 
when he observes the theorems hitherto associated in his 
mind with mathematical diagrams, exemplified by every 
ship- boy on board; nor need he be ashamed to acknow- 
ledge his own incompetency to apply these theorems to 
their practical use, while he attempts to handle the ropes, 
or to steer the vessel. Still less, however, would he have 
reason, on this account^ to conclude, that, in studying the 
composition and resolution of forces, he had made an ac- 
quisition of no intrinsic value. 

The proper inference to be drawn from these and simi- 
lar considerations, is so admirably expressed in the 
following passage, that I shall transcribe it without any 
comment. It is quoted from an obscure author by Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, and placed by him in the front of his 
academical discourses, as an apology for his own dis- 
quisitions concerning some of the principles of painting. 

'' Omnia fere quas praeceptis continentur ab ingeniosis 
*^ hominibus hunt; sed casu quodam magis quam scientia. 
" Ideoque doctrina et animadversio adhibenda est, ut ea 
** quae interdum sine ratione nobis occurrunt, semper in 
^* nostra potestate sint; et quotiesres postulaverit, a nobis 
" ex prasparato adhibeantur." 

It is hardly necessary for me to remark how applica" 
ble this observation is to those very doctrines of the sci- 
ence of Mind which have given rise to this discussion. 
They who consider how much of the business of educa- 
tion resolves into a skilful management of aUcnti&n and 



52 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. IT. 

of association^ will not be disposed to deny, that some- 
thing might still be done, by awakening the vigilance of 
parents and preceptors to these important principles of our 
frame to render this task more systematical in its aim, and 
less doubtful in its success. Have no conclusions with res- 
pect to them been yet ascertained, of which a better prac- 
tical use might be made to develope, or to increase the 
mental energies of man; to promote his moral improve- 
ment; and to shed on his understanding that pure and 
and steady light, without which reason itself can do but 
little, cither to exalt his views, or to secure his happiness? 
Even the very curious facts here appealed to, with respect 
to the education of the war-horse and of the elephant, 
only afford additional proofs of the universality of the 
proposition, " that knowledge is power." They demon- 
strate, that the empire of man over the brute force of 
the lower animals is proportioned, not to his physical 
strength, but to the knowledge he possesses of their res- 
pective constitutions. They form indeed a most beauti- 
ful and instructive comment on Bacon's maxim, that 
" jiature is to be subdued only by obeying her laws;'''' and 
might almost be quoted as apologues for the moral les- 
son they may convey to the guardians of youth, and to 
the rulers of nations. 

It must indeed be granted, that, in the best works 
which have yet appeared on the science of mind, the 
mere refutation of scholastic errors occupies a large and 
melancholy space. Accordingly, it has been mentioned, 
with an air of triumph, as a fact which, since the time of 
Reid, *' seems now to be admitted with regard to per- 
" ception^ and some of the other primary functions of 
" mind; that philosophy can be of no use to us, and that 



Ohap. II] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 53 

" the profoundest reasonings lead us back to the creed, 
*' and to the ignorance of the vulgar." The reiicxtion is un- 
doubtedly just, if by philosophy be here meant the theory 
of perception, which prevailed universally before the time 
of Reid. But I must be allowed to refuse my assent to 
the statement, if it is to be understood as calling in ques- 
tion the utility of that philosophy by which this theory 
was exploded, after having reigned in the schools for more 
than two thousand years, and bewildered, not more than 
a century ago, the speculations of Locke, of Clarke, and 
of Newton. In order to prepare the way for the mechanical 
inquiries of the moderns, it was necessary to begin with 
exposing the futility of the scholastic explanations of 
phenomena, by occult qualities^ and Nature^ s horror of a 
void. After the darkness in which every theory relating 
to the study of mind has been so long involved, by means 
of hypotheses consecrated by time, and interwoven 
with the inmost texture of language, some preliminary 
labour, in like manner, may be expected to be necessa- 
rily employed in clearing away the metaphysical rubbish 
of the ancients, and of the middle ages; and it is a cir- 
cumstance highly honourable to the sagacity and zeal, 
both of Locke and of Reid, that they have devoted to 
this ungrateful, but indispensable task, so large a portion 
of their vi^ritings. What the latter of these philosophers 
has said concerning the doctrine of his illustrious prede- 
cessor on the subject of definitions ^ may be applied to va- 
rious other parts of the Essay on Human Understanding, 
as well as to many discussions which occur in his own 
publications; that " it is valuable, 720^ so much because it 
" enlarges our knowledge, as because it makes us sensi- 
*' ble of our ignorance; and shews that a great part of 



54 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION". [Cliap. U. 

" what speculative men have admired as profound philo- 
" sophy, is only a darkening of knowledge by words with- 
" out understanding." 

Nor must it be forgotten, that it is on this very hypo- 
thesis concerning perception, which has been successfully 
exploded by Reid, that the scepticism of Hume, concern- 
ing the existence both of matter and of mind, rests funda- 
mentally. Has this scepticism had no effect in unsettling 
the opinions of mankind? or granting (as I believe will 
not be disputed) that the effect has been great and exten- 
sive, shall we deny the practical utility of disentangling 
human reason from such a labyrinth? 

After all, it is not on this or similar articles of the 
science of Mind, that I myself am inclined to lay any great 
stress in this part of my argument. The points to which I 
wish chiefly to draw my readers' attention, are the inti- 
mate connection between this science and the general con- 
duct of the understanding; and its obvious tendency, by 
facilitating the analysis of whatever casual combinations 
the fancy may have formed, to dissolve the charm of 
those associations, against which the most conclusive ar- 
guments spend their force in vain. 

I have always been convinced, that it was a fundamen- 
tal error of Aristotle (in which he has been followed by 
almost every logical writer since his time) to confine his 
views entirely to reasoning or the discursive faculty, in- 
stead of aiming at the improvement of our nature in all 
its various parts. — Granting, however, for a moment, that 
this very limited idea of the object of their study was to 
be adopted, a more comprehensive survey of our faculties 
and powers was necessary than they appear to have sus- 
' pectedi for it is in corners of ourframe which seem, on a su - 



Chap. II. j PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 55 

perficial view, to have the least connection with our 
speculative opinions, that the sources of our most dan- 
gerous errors will be found to lurk. It is sufficient for me 
to mention here, the Association of Ideas; Imagination; 
Imitation; the use of Language as the great Instrument 
of Thought; and the Artificial Habits of Judging^ imposed 
by the principles and manners in which we have been 
educated. 

If this remark be well founded, it obviously follows, 
that, in order to prepare the way for a just and compre- 
hensive system of Logic, a previous survey of our nature, 
considered as one great whole, is indispensably requisite. 
To establish this fundamental principle, and to exemplify 
it in some of its practical applications, was one of the 
main objects I had in view, when I first entered upon my 
inquiries into the Human Mind; and I am not without 
hopes, that if my original design shall ever be completed, 
the imperfect sketch I have presumed to attempt, will be 
regarded by competent judges, as no inconsiderable step 
towards the accomplishment of this great undertaking by 
some abler hand. 

If my health and leisure allow me to put in writing 
some speculations which have long been familiar to my 
own thoughts, I shall endeavour to place the defects of 
our common logical systems in a still stronger light, by 
considering them in their application to the fundamental 
doctrines of Ethics; and more particularly, by examin- 
ing how far, in researches of this sort, our moral feelings 
or emotions are entitled to consideration; checking, on 
the one hand, our speculative reasonings, when they lead 
to conclusions at which our nature revolts; and, on the 
other, sanctioning those decisions of the understandings 



56 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. n. 

in favour of which the head and the heart unite their 
suffrages. 

According to the prevailing maxims of modern philo- 
sophy, so little regard is paid to feeling and sentiment in 
matters of reasonings that, instead of being understood to 
sanction or confirm the intellectual judgments with which 
they accord, they are very generally supposed to cast a 
shade of suspicion on every conclusion with which they 
blend the slightest tincture of sensibility or enthusiasm. 

The prosecution of this idea will, if I do not much de- 
ceive myself, open some new views with respect to the 
Logic of Morals; and I am induced to suggest it here, in 
the hopes of directing the curiosity of some of my readers 
to an inquiry, which, I am persuaded, will lead them to 
conclusions deeply interesting to their own happiness. 

As to Logic in general, according to my idea of it, it 
is an art yet in its infancy, and to the future advancement 
of which it is no more possible to fix a limit, than to the 
future progress of human knowledge. The aphorism of 
Lord Bacon applies, in this instance, with peculiar force. 
" Certo sciant homines, artes inveniendi solidas et veras 
** adolescere et incrementa sumere cum ipsis inventis." 
In the mean time, it is the duty of all who devote them- 
selves to scientific pursuits, to treasure up carefully, as 
materials to be collected and arranged afterwards by others, 
whatever general rules or methods may have occurred to 
them in the course of their studies. Even at present, 
numberless scattered lights might be gathered from the 
labours of our predecessors, both ancient and modern; 
nor would it perhaps be possible to supply a desideratum 
of greater value to philosophy, than to concentrate these 
dispersed rays, and to throw them on the regions which 



Chap.II.l PREUMIXARY DISSERTATION. 57 

are yet to be explored.* From such a concentration much 
aid might be expected, both in directing the studies of 
others, and in the conduct of our own understanding; and 
it is chiefly on this slow, but continued accession to our 
stock of logical principles, arising from a systematical 
accumulation, at proper intervals of time, of individual 
contributions, that I rest my hopes of the farther advance- 
ment of that science in after ages. To speak, in the actual 
state of the world, of a complete system of logic (if by 
that word is meant any thing different from the logic of 
the schools), betrays an inattention to the object at which 
it aims, and to the progressive career of the human mind; 
but above all, it betrays an overweening estimate of the 
little which logicians have hitherto done, when compared 
with the magnitude of the task which they have left to 
their successors. 

It was not, however, with a view to the advancement 
of logic alone, that I was led to engage in these inquiries. 
My first and leading aim was to take as comprehensive 
a survey as possible of the human constitution, in order 
to show how limited our common plans of education are, 
when compared with the manifold powers both of intel- 
lect and of enjoyment by which Nature has distinguished 
our species. The cultivation of reason, with a view to the 
investigation of truth, is only one of the means, although 
one of the most essential means towards the improvement 
and happiness of the individual; and it is merely on account 
of its high comparative importance in this respect, that I so 

* To those who may turn their attention to the Logic of Mathe- 
matical Science, many invaluable hints may be collected from the 
works of D*Alembert, and from the preliminary discourses prefixed 
by some of his countrymen to their Mathematical Works. 

H 



58 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [C^iap. II. 

often recur to it in the prosecution of my undertaking. The 
two last Essa)^s which I have printed at the end of this vo- 
lume, will, I hope, be useful in illustrating my general idea. 

I have been insensibly led into a much longer detail 
than I intended, about my future plans. I should be sorry 
if any of my readers should ascribe this prolixity to an idle 
egotism. Had I enjoyed a more unbroken leisure, my de- 
sign would have been many years ago completed, as far as 
the measure of my abilities enabled me. I still look for- 
ward, though with hopes much less sanguine than I once 
indulged, to the prosecution of my task; and if (as is more 
than probable) these hopes shall be disappointed, it will 
afford me some satisfaction, to have left behind me this 
memorial, slight as it is, of what I have meditated. 

I have only to repeat once more, before the close of this 
Dissertation, that the correction of one single prejudice 
has often been attended with consequences more impor- 
tant and extensive than could be produced by any positive 
accession to the stock of our scientific information. Such 
is the condition of man, that a great part of a philosopher's 
life must necessarily be spent, not in enlarging the circle 
of his knowledge, but in unlearning the errors of the 
crowd, and the pretended wisdom of the schools; and that 
the most substantial benefit he can bestow on his fellow- 
creatures, as well as the noblest species of Power to which 
he can aspire, is to impart to others the lights he has struck 
out by his meditations, and to encourage human reason, 
by his example, to assert its liberty. To what did the dis- 
coveries made by Luther amount, but to a detection of 
the impostures of the Romish Church, and of absurdities 
sanctioned by the authority of Aristotle? Yet, how vast 
the space which is filled by his name, in the subsequent 



Chap, n.] PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 59 

history of Europe! and how proud his rank among the 
benefactors of mankind! I am doubtful if Bacon himself 
did so much by the logical rules he gave for guiding 
the inquiries of his followers, as by the resolution with 
which he inspired them to abandon the beaten path of 
their predecessors, and to make excursions into regions 
untrodden before; or if any of his suggestions concerning 
the plan of experimenting, can be compared in value to 
his classification and illustration of the various prejudices 
or idols which mislead us from the pure worship of Truth. 
If the ambition of Aristotle has been compared, in the 
vastness of its aim, and the plenitude of its success, (and 
who can say that it has been compared unjustly?) to that 
of his Royal Pupil who conquered the world; why under- 
value the efforts of those who first raised the standard of 
revolt against his universal and undisputed despotism? 
Speedily after the death of Alexander, the Macedonian 
empire was dismembered among his principal officers. 
The empire founded by the philosopher continued one 
and undivided for the period of two thousand years; and, 
even at this day, fallen as it is from its former grandeur, 
a few faithful and devoted veterans, shut up in its remain- 
ing fortresses, still bid proud defiance, in their master's 
name, to all the arrayed strength of Human Reason. In 
consequence of this slow and gradual emancipation of the 
Mind, the means by which the final result has been accom- 
plished, attract the notice only of the reflecting inquirer; 
resembling in their silent, but irresistible operation, the 
latent and imperceptible influence of the roots, which, by 
insinuating themselves into the crevices of an ancient edi- 
fice, prepare its infallible ruin, ages before its fall; or that 
of the apparently inert moisture, which is concealed in the 



60 . PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap. II. 

fissures of a rock, when enabled, by the expansive force 
of congelation, to renc^ asunder its mass, or to heave it 
from its basis. 

As it is seldom, in such instances, easy to trace to par- 
ticular individuals what has resulted from their exertions, 
with the same precision with which, in physics or mecha- 
nics, we refer to their respective inventors the steam-en* 
gine or the thunder-rod, it is not surprising, that the atten- 
ion of the multitude should be so little attracted to the 
intellectual dominion of superior minds over the mor^ 
world; but the observer must be blind indeed, who does 
not perceive the vastness of the scale on which specula- 
tive principles, both right and wrong, have operated on 
the present condition of mankind; or who does not now 
feel and acknowledge, how deeply the morals and the 
happiness of private life, as well as the order of political 
society, are involved in the final issue of the contest 
be ween true and false philosophy. 



In selecting the subjects of the Essays contained in the 
First Part of this volume, I have had a view chiefly to the 
correction of some mistaken opinions concerning the ori- 
gin of our Knowledge (or, to use the more common 
phraseology, concerning the origin of our Ideas) which, 
as they are naturally suggested by certain figurative 
modes of speaking, sanctioned by the highest authorities, 
are apt to warp the judgment in studying the most ele- 
mentary principles of abstract science. I have touched 
slightly on the same question in one of the sections of 
my former work; where the doctrine maintained with 
respect to it coincides exactly with that which it is now 



Chap, ft] "PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. 61 

my object to establish by a more ample discussion. At 
that time, I did not imagine that it differed so widely 
from the current maxims of the learned, as I have since 
found from various later publications; and accordingly, 
(as the point in dispute is intimately connected with al- 
most every other question relating to the human mind) 
I have availed myself of the present opportunity to throw 
upon it some additional light, before resuming my ana- 
lysis of the Intellectual Powers. With this view, I have 
been led to canvass, pretty freely, the doctrines not only 
of my predecessors, but of several of my contemporaries; 
and to engage in various arguments, which, however un- 
connected they may appear in a table of contents, will 
be all found, upon examination, to bear upon the same 
conclusion. I flatter myself, therefore, that those who 
may take the trouble to follow the train of thought 
Avhich has led me from one Essay to another, will dis- 
cover in this part of my book a greater degree of unity, 
than its title-page seems at first to promise. 

The Essays which fill up the rest of the volume have 
no necessary dependence on the disquisitions to which 
they are subjoined; and may perhaps be read with some 
interest by readers who have little relish for scholastic 
controversy. The choice, however, even of these, was not 
altogether arbitrary; as, I trust, will appear evident to 
such as may honour the whole series with an attentive 
perusal. 

Of the speculations with respect to the origin of our 
ideas, the greater part were committed to writing, for the 
first time, during the course of the last summer and win-^ 
ter; the materials of some of them being supplied by very 
imperfect hints, noted down at different periods of my 



62 PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION. [Chap.IL 

life. The business of composition was begun at a time 
when I had recourse to it occasionally as a refuge from 
other thoughts; and has been carried on under circum- 
stances, which, I doubt not, will incline those to whom 
they are known, to judge of the execution with some 
degree of indulgence. 



PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS 
PART FIRST. 



PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS. 

PART FIRST.* 



ESSAY FIRST, 

ON liOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE SOURCES OF HUMAN 
KNOWLEDGE, AND ITS INFLUENCE ON THE DOC- 
TRINES OF SOME OF HIS SUCCESSORS. 



CHAPTER FIRST. 
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 

In speculating concerning any of the intellectual phenor 
mena, it is of essential importance for us constantly to re- 
collect, that, as our knowledge of the material world is 
derived entirely from our external senses, so all our 
knowledge of the human mind is derived from conscious- 
ness. As to the blind or the deaf, no words can convey 
the notions of particular colours, or of particular sounds; 
so to a being who had never been conscious of sensation, 
memor)^ imagination, pleasure, pain, hope, fear, love, 
hatred, no intelligible description could be given of the 
import of these terms. They all express simple ideas or 
notions, which are perfectly familiar to every person who 
is able to turn his thoughts inwards, and which we never 
fail to involve in obscurity when we attempt to define 

them.* 

* See Note (A). 



66 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I. 

The habits of inattention which all men contract, in 
their early years, to the operations of their own minds, 
have been pointed out, by various writers, as the most 
powerful of all obstacles to the progress of our inquiries 
concerning the theory of human nature. These habits, 
it has also been remarked, are to be conquered only 
by the most persevering industry in accustoming the 
thoughts to turn themselves at pleasure to the phenome- 
na of this internal world; an effort by no means easy to 
any individual, and, to a large proportion of mankind, 
almost impracticable. '' Magni est ingenii" (says Cice- 
ro) '^ revocare mentem a sensibus, et cogitationem a con- 
" suetudine abducere." The observation, as thus ex- 
pressed, is perhaps somewhat exceptionable; inasmuch 
as the power which Cicero describes has but little con- 
nection with Genius in the ordinary acceptation of that 
word; — but it cannot be denied, that it implies a capacity 
of patient and abstracted meditation, which does not fall 
to the lot of many. 

To this power of directing the attention steadily and 
accurately to the phenomena of thought, Mr. Locke and 
his followers have very properly given the name of Reflec- 
tion. It bears precisely the same relation to Consciousness 
which Observation does to Perception; the former sup- 
plying us with the facts which form the only solid basis 
of the science of mind, as we are indebted to the latter 
for the ground- work of the whole fabric of natural philo- 
sophy.* 

*The French language affords no single word to express consci- 
ousness, but conscience; a word which is also frequently employed 
as synonymous with the mor^l sense.. Thus it is equally agreeable to- 
the usage of the most correct writers to say, I'homme a la conscience 



Chap. I. J SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 67 

With respect to the exercise of reflection, the following 
precept of an old-fashioned writer is so judicious, and 
-the caution it suggests of so great moment to us in the 
inquiries on which we are about to enter, that I shall 
make no apology for introducing it here, although not 
more immediately connected with the subject of the pre- 
sent essay, than with those of all the others contained in 
this volume. 

" When I speak" (says Crousaz, in his Art of Think- 
ing,) " of desire, contentment, trouble, apprehension, 
"doubt, certainty; of afiirming, denying, approving, 
" blaming; — I pronounce words, the meaning of which 
" I distinctly understand; and yet I do not represent the 
" things spoken of under any image or corporeal form. 
*' While the intellect, however, is thus busy about its 
** own phenomena, the imagination is also at work in pre- 
" senting its analogical theories; but so far from aiding us, 
" it only misleads our steps, and retards our progress. 
" Would you know what thought is?^ — It is precisely 
" that which passes within you when you think: Stop but 
" here, and you are sufficiently informed. But the ima- 
" gination, eager to proceed farther, would gratify our 

" curiosity by comparing it to fire, to vapour, or to other 

I 

de sa liberie; and to speak of un homme de conscience, in the English 
acceptation of that phrase. Hence an occasional indistinctness in the 
reasonings of some of the best French metaphysicians. Ii has proba- 
bly been with a view to its correction, that so much use has been 
made lately of the circumlocutions, le sens intime, le sentiment inte- 
rieur; phrases which appear to me to be still more exceptionable 
than the word for which they have been substituted. 

In general, the English language has a decided superiority over 
the French in the precision of its metaphysical phraseology. — A few 
exceptions to this remark might perhaps be mentioned, but I do not 
recollect any of much importance. 



€|8 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay 1. 

** active and subtile principles in the material world. And 
*' to what can all this tend, but to divert our attention 
" from what thought is, and to fix it upon what it is 
"not?" 

The belief which accompanies consciousness, as to 
the present existence of its appropriate phenomena, has 
been commonly considered as much less obnoxious to 
cavil, than any of the other principles which philosophers 
are accustomed to assume as self-evident, in the forma,- 
tion of their metaphysical systems. No doubts on this 
head have yet been suggested by any philosopher, how 
sceptical soever; even by those who have called in ques- 
tion the existence both of mind and of matter: — And yet 
the fact is, that it rests on no foundation more solid than 
our belief of the existence of external objects; or our be- 
lief, that other men possess intellectual powers and facul- 
ties similar to those of which we are conscious in our- 
selves. In all these cases, the only account that can be 
given of our belief is, that it forms a necessary part of 
our constitution; against which metaphysicians may ea- 
sily argue so as to perplex the judgmeni, but of which 
it is impossible for us to divest ourselves for a moment, 
when we are called on to employ our reason, either in 
the business of life, or in the pursuits of science. While 
we are under the influence of our appetites, passions, or 
affections, or even of a strong speculative curiosity, all 
those difiiculties which bewildered us in the solitude of 
the closet vanish before the essential principles of the 
human frame. 

Accordhig to the common doctrine of our best philoso- 
phers, it is by the evidence of consciousness we are assur- 
ed that we ourselves exist. The proposition, however, 



Chap. 1.3 SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 69 

when thus statecj, is not accurately true; for our own ex- 
istence is not a ^ect or immediate object of conscious- 
ness, in the strict and logical meaning of that term. We 
are conscious of sensation, thought, desire, voUtion; but 
we are not conscious of the existence of mind itself; nor 
would it be possible for us to arrive at the knowledge of it 
(supposing us to be created in the full possession of all the 
intellectual capacities that belong to human nature) if no 
impression were ever to be made on our external senses. 
The moment that, in consequence of such an impression, 
a sensation is excited, we learn two facts at once; — the ex- 
istence of the sensation, and our own existence as sentient 
beings: — in other words, the very first exercise of my con- 
sciousness necessarily implies a belief, not only of the pre- 
sent existence of what is felt, but of the present existence 
of that which feels and thinks; or (to employ plainer lan- 
guage) the present existence of that being which I denote 
by the words / and myself. Of these facts, however, it is 
the former alone of which we can properly be said to be 
conscious, agreeably to the rigorous interpretation of the 
expression. The latter is made known to us by a sug- 
gestion of the understanding consequent on the sensation, 
but so intimately connected with it, that it is not surpri- 
sing that our belief of both should be generally referred 
to the same origin. 

If this distinction be just, the celebrated enthymeme of 
Des Cartes^ Cogito ergo sum, does not deserve all the ri- 
dicule bestowed on it by those writers who have repre- 
sented the author as attempting to demonstrate his own 
existence by a process of reasoning. To me it seems 
more probable, that he meant chiefly to direct the atten- 
tion of his readers to a circumstance which m.ust be al- 



70 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I. 

lowed to be not unworthy of notice in the history of the 
human mind; — the impossibility of ouiCfcver having learn- 
ed the fact of our own existence, without some sensation 
being excited in the mind, to awaken the faculty of think- 
ing.* 

As the belief of our present existence necessarily ac- 
companies every act of consciousness, so, from a com- 
parison of the sensations and thoughts of which we are 
now conscious, with those of which we recollect to have 
been conscious formerly, we are impressed with an irre- 
sistible conviction o{ our personal identity. Notwithstand- 
ing the strange difficulties that have been raised upon the 
subject, I cannot conceive any conviction more complete 
than this, nor any truth more intelligible to all, whose 
understandings have not been perplexed by metaphysical 
speculations. The objections founded on the change of 
substance in certain material objects to which we con- 
tinue to apply the same name, are plainly not applicable 
to the question concerning the identity of the same 
person, or of the same thinking being; inasmuch as the 
words sameness and identity are here used in different 
senses. Of the meaning of these words when applied to 
persons, I confess I am not able to give a logical defini- 
tion; but neither can I define sensation, memory, volition 
nor even existence; and if any one should bring himself 
by this and other scholastic subtilties to conclude, that 
he has no interest in making provision for to-morrow, 

* After looking again into the Meditations of Des Cartes, I am 
doubtful if I have not carried my apology for him a little farther 
than his own words will justify. I am still of opinion, however, that 
it was the remark which I have ascribed to him, that first led him 
into this train of thought. 



Chap. I.] SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 71 

hcaxusc personaiiti/ is not a permanent but a transient thinir^ 
I can think of no argument to convince him of his error. 
But although it is by consciousness and memory tliat the 
sameness of our being is ascertained to ourselves, it is 
by no means correct to say with Locke, that consciousness 
constitutes personal identity; — a doctrine wiiich, as But- 
ler justly remarks, ** involves, as an obvious consequence, 
'* that a person has not existed a single moment, nor done 
" one action but what he can remember; indeed none but 
** what he reflects upon."* — '* One should really think 
" it self-evident," (as the same author further remarks) 
** that consciousness of personal identity presupposes, 
*' and therefore cannot constitute personal identity, any 
'* more than knowledge in any other case constitutes 
" those truths which are its own objects." — The previous 
existence of the truths is manifestly implied in the very 
supposition of their being objects of knowledge. 

While, however, I assent completely to the substance 
of these acute and important strictures upon Locke's 
doctrine, I think it necessary for me to observe, that the 
language of Butler himself is far from being unexcep- 
tionable. He speaks of our conscious?iess ofpersojial iden- 
tity; whereas it must appear evident, upon a moment's 
reflection, even to those who acquiesce in the common 
statement which ascribes immediately to consciousness, 
our belief of our present existence^ — that our belief of 
our personal identity presupposes, over and above this 
knowledge, the exercise of memory, and the idea of time. 

The importance of attending carefully to the distinc- 

* See the dissertation on personal identity, subjoined to ButlerV 
Analogy. 



72 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I. 

tion between the phenomena which are the immediate ob- 
jects of consciousness, and the concomitant notions and 
truths which are suggested to our thoughts by these phe- 
nomena, will appear from the considerations to be stated 
n the next chapter; in following which, however, I must 
request my readers to remember, that the distinction be- 
^ comes important merely from the palpable refutation it 
affords of the prevailing theory concerning the origin of 
our knowledge; and not from any difference between the 
two classes of truths, in point of evidence. 



^ 



Ohai>,n.j SOURCES OP HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 73 



CHAPTER SECOND. 

INCONSISTENCY OF OUR CONCLUSIONS IN THE FOREGOING CHAPTER 
WITH LOCKE*S ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 

It was already observed, that it is from consciousness, 
or rather from reflection, that we derive all our notions of 
the faculties and operations of the mind; and that, in ana- 
lysing these, we must lay our account with arriving, 
sooner or later, at certain simple notions or ideas, which 
we have no means of conveying to others, but by teach- 
ing those to whom our reasonings are addressed, how to 
direct their attention with accuracy to what passes with- 
in them. These mental phenomena form the direct and 
appropriate subjects of consciousness; and, indeed, the 
only direct and appropriate subjects of consciousness, in 
the strict acceptation of that word. 

It must not, however, be concluded from this, that 
the proper subjects of consciousness (when the phrase 
is thus udderstood) comprehend all the simple notions 
or ideas about which the science of mind is conversant; 
far less (as some philosophers have imagined) that they 
comprehend all the elements into which human know^ 
ledge may, in the last result, be analysed. Not to men- 
tion such notions as those of extension and figure, (both 
of which are inseparable concomitants of some of our 
external perceptions, and which certainly bear no resents 
blance to any thing of which we are conscious within 

ourselves,) there is a great variety of others so connected 

K 



74 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I. 

with our different intellectual faculties, that the exercise 
of the faculty may be justly regarded as a condition in- 
dispensably necessary to account for the first origin of 
the notion. Thus, by a mind destitute of the faculty of 
memory , neither the ideas of time, nor of motion, nor of 
personal identity, could possibly have been formed; ideas 
\vhich are confessedly among the most familiar of all 
those we possess, and which cannot be traced immedi- 
ately to consciousness, by any effort of logical subtilty. 
In like manner, without the faculty of abstraction, we 
never could have formed the idea of number; nor of lines^ 
surfaces, and solids, as they are considered by the mathe- 
matician; nor would it have been possible for us to com- 
prehend the meaning of such words as classes or assort- 
ments, or indeed of any one of the grammatical parts of 
speech, but proper names. Without the power of reason 
or understanding, it is no less evident, that no comment 
could have helped us to unriddle the import of the words, 
truth, certainty, probability, theorem, premises, conclusion; 
nor of any one of those which express the various sorts 
of relation which fall under our knowledge. In such 
cases, all that can be said is, that the exercise of a particu- 
lar faculty furnishes the occasion on which certain simple 
notions are, by the laws of our constitution, presented to 
our thoughts; nor does it seem possible for us to trace the 
origin of a particular notion any farther, than to ascertain 
I / what the nature of the occasion was, which, in the first 
instance, introduced it to our acquaintance. 

The conclusions we thus form concerning the origin 
of our knowledge, constitute what may be properly called 
the First Chapter of the natural history of the human 
mind. They constitute, at the same time, the only solid 



I 

Ghap. 11.3 SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 75 

basis of a rational logic; of that part of logic, more espe- 
cially, which relates to the theory of evidence. In the order 
of investigation, however, they necessarily presuppose 
such an analysis of the faculties of the mind as I have 
attempted in another work; — a consideration of which I 
do not know that. any logical writer has been hitherto 
aware; and which I must request my readers carefully 
to attend to, before they pass a judgment on the plan I 
have followed in the arrangement of my philosophical 
speculations. 

If the foregoing remarks be well-founded, they are fatal 
to a fundamental principle of Locke's philosophy, which 
has been assumed by most of his successors as a demon- 
strated truth; and which, under a form somewhat dis- 
guised, has served to Hume as the basis of all his scep- 
tical theories. It appears to me, that the doctrines of both 
these eminent authors, with respect to the origin of our 
ideas, resolve into the supposition, that consciousness is 
exclusively the source of all our knowledge. Their lan- 
guage, indeed, particularly that of Locke, seems to imply 
the contrary; but that this was really their opinion, may, 
with certainty, be inferred from their own comments. 
My reasons for saying so, I shall endeavour to explain 
as clearly and concisely as I can. 

" Let us suppose" (says Locke) " the mind to be, as 
" we say, white paper, void of all characters, without any 
" ideas: How comes it to be furnished? Whence comes 
*' it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fan- 
** cy of man has painted on it, with an almost endless va- 
*' riety? Whence has it all the materials of reason and 
'^ knowledge? To this I answer in a word, from experi- 
^' ence: In that all our knowledge is founded, and from 



76 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay L 

" that it ultimately derives itself. Our observation, em- 
" ployed, either about external sensible objects, or about 
** the internal operations of our minds, perceived and re- 
" fleeted on by ourselves, is that which supplies our un- 
*' derstanding with all the materials for thinking. These 
" two are the fountains of knowledge from whence all the 
" ideas we have, or can naturally have, do spring." 

*' First, our senses, conversant about particular sensi- 
*' ble objects, do convey into the mind several distinct 
" perceptions of things, according to those various ways 
"wherein those objects do affect them: And thus we 
" come by those ideas we have of yellow, white, heaty 
*' cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we 
"call sensible qualities; which, when I say the senses 
" convey into the mind, I mean, they, from external ob- 
"jects convey into the mind what produces there those 
" perceptions. This great source of most of the ideas we 
*' have, depending wholly upon our senses, and derived 
*' by them to the understanding, I call sensation. 

" Secondly, the other fountain from which experience 
" furnisheth the understanding with ideas, is the percep- 
" tiori^ of the operations of our own minds within us, as it 
" is employed about the ideas it has got; which opera- 
" tions, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, 
" do furnish the understanding with another set of ideas, 
" which could not be had from things without; and such 
" are perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasonings 
" willing, and all the different actings of our own minds; 
" which we, being conscious of, and observing in our- 
" selves, do from these receive into our understandings 

* For fierce/ition reaid consciousness. 



Chap, n.] SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 77 

" as distinct ideas, as we do from bodies affecting our 
" senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly in 
** himself: And though it be not sense, as having nothing 
*^ to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, and 
" might properly enough be called internal sense. But as 
" I call the other sensation, so I call this reflection; 
" the ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets by 

" reflecting on its own operations within itself. These 

" two, I say, viz. external material things, as the objects 
*' of sensation, and the operations of our own minds wilh- 
'* in, as the objects of reflection, are to me the only ori- 
" ginals from whence all our ideas take their begin- 
"nings."* 

" When the understanding is once stored with these 
" simple ideas, it has the power to repeat, compare, and 
" unite them, even to an almost infinite variety, and so 
** can make at pleasure new complex ideas. — But it is not 
" in the power of the most exalted wit, or enlarged un- 
" derstanding, by any quickness or variety of thoughts^ 
" to invent or frame one new simple idea in the mind, 
" not taken in by the ways before-mentioned: Nor can 
*' any force of the understanding destroy those that are 
" there. The dominion of man, in this little world of his 
" own understanding, being much the same, as it is in 
** the great world of visible things; wherein his power, 
" however managed by art and skill, reaches no farther 
*' than to compound or divide the materials that are made 
" to his hand, but can do nothing towards the making 
" the least particle of new matter, or destroying one atom 
'^ of what is already in being."t 

* Locke's Essay, Book ii. Chap. i. § 2, 3, Sec. 
t Locke's Essay, Book 2. Chap ii. § 2, 



-4 



»78 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I. 

Thus far there seems to be little reprehensible iii 
Locke's statement, as it might be fairly interpreted (not- 
withstanding some unguarded expressions) as implying 
nothing more than this, that the first occasions on which 
the mind is led to exercise its various faculties, and to 
acquire the simple notions which form the elements ot 
all its knowledge, are furnished either by impressions 
made on our external senses, or by the phenomena of sen- 
sation and thought of which we are conscious. In this 
sense of thfe words, I have, in a former work, not only 
expressed my assent to Mr. Locke's doctrine, but have 
admitted as correct, the generalization of it adopted by 
most of his present followers; — ** that the first occasions 
*^ on which our various faculties are exercised, and the 
" elements of all our knowledge acquired, may be traced 
^'ultimately to our intercourse with sensible objects." 
This generalization, indeed, is an obvious and necessary 
consequence of the proposition as stated by Locke; the 
mind being unquestionably, in the first instance, awaken- 
ed to the exercise of consciousness and reflection by im- 
pressions from without.^' 

The comments, however, which Locke has introduced 
on this cardinal principle of his system, in different parts 
of his Essay, prove beyond a doubt that he intended it to 
convey a great deal more than is implied in the interpre- 
tation of it which has just been given; and that, accord- 
ing to the meaning h.e annexed to his words, sensation 
and reflection are not merely afliirmed to furnish the occa- 

* See Philosophy of the Human Mind, Chap. i. Sect. 4. which 1 
must beg leave to recommend to the careful perusal of such of my 
readers as are at all aware of the importance of this discussion. 



Chap. ll.J SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 79 

sions which suggest to the understanding the various sim- 
ple or elementary modifications of thought to which he 
gives the name of simple Ideas; but to furnish the mind 
directly and immediately with these ideas, in the obvious 
and literal sense of the expression; — insomuch, thiit there 
is not a simple idea in the mind which is not either the 
appropriate subject of consciousness, (such as the ideas 
which the mind forms of its own operations,) — or a copt/ of 
some quality perceived by our external senses. It appears 
farther, that Locke conceived these copies, or images, to 
be the immediate objects of thought, all our information 
about the material world being obtained by their interven- 
tion: And it was for this reason, I before asserted, that his 
fundamental principle resolves into the supposition, that 
consciousness is exclusively the source of all our know- 
ledge J^ 

That I may not be suspected of doing Locke any in- 
justice on this occasion, I must quote a few passages in 
his own words. 

" The next thing to be considered is, how bodies pro- 
*' duce ideas in us, and that is manifestly by impulse, the 
" only way we can conceive bodies to operate in." 

" If, then, external objects be not united to our minds, 

* A remark, the same in substance with this, is made by Dr. Reid 
in the conclusion of his Inquiry. " When it is asserted, that all our 
" notions are ehher ideas of sensation, or ideas of reflection, the 
" plain English of this is, that mankind neither do, nor can think of 
" any thing, but of the operations of their own minds." — Inquiry, 
^c. fi. 376, (M Edition). 

In some places, Locke speaks of the ideas of material things as 
being m the brain; but his general mode of expression supposes 
them to be in the ?mnd; and consequently the immediate objects of 
consciousness. 



80 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I 

" when they produce ideas in it; and yet we perceive these 
" original qualities in such of them as singly fall under 
** our senses, 'tis evident, that some motion must be thence 
** continued by our nerves or animal spirits, or by some 
** parts of our bodies to the brain, or the seat of sensation, 
** there to produce in our minds the particular ideas we 
" have of them. And since the extension, figure, number, 
** and motion of bodies of an observable bigness, may be 
** perceived at a distance by the sight, 'tis evident, some 
** singly imperceptible bodies must come from them to the 
" eyes, and thereby convey to the brain some motion 
** which produces these ideas which we have of them in 
**as."* 

A few sentences after, Mr. Locke, having previously 
stated the distinction between the primary and the secon- 
dary qualities of matter, proceeds thus: " From whence 
*' I think it easy to draw this observation, that the ideas 
*' of primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, 
*' and their patterns do really exist in the bodies them- 
^' selves; but the ideas produced in us by these secondary 
'' qualities have no resemblance of them at alL"t 

What notion Mr. Locke annexed to the word resem- 
blance^ when applied to our ideas of primary qualities, 
may be best learned by the account he gives of the dif- 
ference between them and our ideas of secondary quali- 
ties, in the paragraph immediately following. " Flame is 
'' denominated hot and light; J snow, white and cold; and 
'* manna, white and sweet; from the ideas they produce 

* Locke's Essay, Book ii. Chap. viii. § 1 1. and 12. 
I § 15. — The instances mentioned by Locke of primary qualities 
are, solidity, extension, figure, motion, or rest, and number. 
t For )ic:ht read luminous 



Chap. 11.;] SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 8l 

" in us: which qualities are commonly thought to be the 
" same in those bodies that those ideas are in us, the one 
'* the perfect resemblance of the other ^ as they are in a mir- 
" ror; and it would by most men be judged very extra- 
*' vagant, if one should say otherwise.*' 

" I pretend not'' (says the same author in a subsequent 
chapter) '' to teach, but to inquire; and therefore, cannot 
" but confess here again, that external and internal sen- 
" sation are the only passages that I can find of know- 
" ledge to the understanding. These alone, as far as I 
" can discover, are the windows by which light is let into 
" this dark room. For methinks the understanding is not 
** much unlike a closet, wholly shut from light, with only 
" some little openings left, to let in external visible re- 
" semblances, or ideas of things without; would the pic- 
" tures coming into a dark room but stay there, and lie 
" so orderly as to be found upon occasion, it would very 
" much resemble the understanding of a man, in refer- 
"* ence to all objects of sight, and the ideas of them."* 

I have been induced to multiply these quotations, as 
some writers have alleged, that an undue advantage has 
been taken of the unguarded use which Locke has made 
in them of the word resemblance; which, it has been as- 
serted, he could not possibly mean to be understood in 
its literal sense. f On this point I must leave my readers 
to judge from his own language; remarking only, that if 
this language be considered as at all metaphorical or figu- 
rative, the most important inferences, drawn both by 
himself and his successors, from his celebrated theory 

» Locke, Book 2. Chap. xi. § 17. 

t See Priestley's Examination of Reid, Sec. p. 28. et seg. 

L 



82 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay L 

concerning the origin of our ideas, amount to nothing 
better than a play upon words. 

For my own part, I can see no good reason for suppo- 
sing that Locke did 72ot believe that our ideas of primary 
cjuahties are really resemblances or copies of these quali- 
ties, when w^e know for certain that, till our own times, 
this has been the universal doctrine of the schools, from 
Aristotle downwardsr Even Leibnitz himself, while he 
rejected the supposition of these ideas coming into the 
mind from without, expresses no doubt of their resem- 
blance to the archetypes which they enable us to think of. 
The soul he considered as a living mirror of the whole 
universe; possessing within itself confused or imperfect 
ideas of all the modifications of things external, whether 
present, past, or to come: that is to say, he retained that 
part of the scholastic doctrine which is the most palpably 
absurd and unintelligible; the supposition, that we can 
think of nothing, unless either the original or the copy be 
actually in the mind^ and the immediate subject of consci- 
ousness. The truth is, that all these philosophers have been 
misled by a vain anxiety to explain the incomprehensible 
causes of the phenomena of which we are conscious, 
in the simple acts of thinking, perceiving, and knowing; 
and they seem all to have imagined that they had advan- 
ced a certain length in solving these problems, when they 
conjectured, that in every act of thought there exists 
some image or idea in the mind, distinct from the mind 
itself; by the intermediation of which its intercourse is 
carried on with things remote or absent. The chief dif- 
ference among their systems has turned on this, that 
whereas many have supposed the mind to have been ori- 
ginally provided with a certain portion of its destined fur- 



Chap. IL] SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 83 

niture, independently of any intercourse with the material 
world; the prevaiHng opinion, since Locke's time has been, 
that all our simple ideas, excepting those which the power 
of reflection collects from the phenomena of thought, are 
images or representations of certain external archetypes 
\vith which our diflerent organs of sense are conversant; 
and that, out of these materials, thus treasured up in the 
repository of the understanding, all the possible objects of 
human knowledge are manufactured. " What inconsis- 
" tency !" (might Voltaire well exclaim) — ^' We know 
" not how the earth produces a blade of grass; or how the 
*' bones grow in the womb of her who is with child; and yet 
'* we would persuade ourselves that we understand the 
"nature and generation of our ideas. "^ 

It is however a matter of comparatively little conse- 
quence to ascertain, what were the notions which Locke 
himself annexed to his words, if it shall appear clearly, 
that the interpretation which I have put upon them coin- 
cides exactly with the meaning annexed to them by the 
most distinguished of his successors. How far this is the 
case, my readers will be enabled to judge by the remarks 
which I am to state in the next chapter. f 

* Selon Leibnitz, Tame est line concentration, un miroir vivant de 
tout I'univers, qui a en soi toutes les idees confuses de toutes les 
modifications de ce monde presentes, passees, et futures, &c. &c. 

Chose etrange, nous ne savons pas comment la terre produit ui> 
brin d'herbe, comment une femme fait un enfant, et on croit savoir, 
comment nous faisons des idees. — (See the chapter in Voltaire's ac- 
count of Newton's Discoveries, entitled De CAme et des Tdeen.^ 

tNote(B). 



84 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I. 



CHAPTER THIRD. 

INFLUENCE OF LOCKE's ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGINOF OUR KNOWLEDGE 
ON THE SPECULATIONS OF VARIOUS EMINENT WRITERS SINCE HIS 
TIME, MORE PARTICULARLY ON THOSE OF BERKELEY AND OF HUME. 

W E are percipient of nothing" (says Bishop Berkeley) 
" but of our own perceptions and ideas." — •*' It is evident 
" to any one who takes a survey of the objects of human 
" knowledge, that they are either ideas actually imprinted 
" on the senses,* or else such as are perceived by attend- 
^* ing to the passions and operations of the mind,t or 
" lastly, ideas formed by help of memory and imagina- 
*' tion, either compounding, dividing, or barely represent- 
*' ing those originally perceived in the aforesaid ways. "J — 
*' Light and colours," (he elsewhere observes) " heat and 
" cold, extension and figure; in a word, the things we see 
" and feel, what are they, but so many sensations, notions, 
" ideas, or impressions on the senses; and is it possible 
" to separate, even in thought, any of these from percep- 
" tion? For my own part, I might as easily divide a thing 
^'from itself."|| 

No form of words could show more plainly, that, ac- 
cording to Berkeley's construction of Locke's language, 
his account of the origin of our ideas was conceived to 
involve, as an obvious corollary, '* that all the immediate 

* Ideas of Sensation. t Ideas of Reflection. 

\ Principles of Human Knowledge, Sect. 1. 
II Principles of Hunnan Knowledge, Sect. 5. 



Chap. III.3 SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 85 

*^ objects of human knowledge exist in the mind itself, / 
" and fall under the direct cognizance of consciousness, 
'* as much as our sensations of heat and cold, or of pleasure '^ 
** and pain." 

Mr. Hume's great prhiciple with respect to the origin 
of our ideas, which (as I before hinted) is only that of 
Locke under a new form, asserts the same doctrine, with ' 
greater conciseness, but in a manner still less liable to 
misinterpretation. 

" All our ideas are nothing but copies of our impres- -^ 
** sions; or, in other words, it is impossible for us to think 
" of any thing which we have not antecedently felt^^ 
" either by our external or our internal senses."! Mr. 
Hume tells us elsewhere, that " nothing can be pre- 
" sent to the mind but an image or perception. The senses 
" are only the inlets through which these images are con- 
" veyed, without being able to produce any immediate 
^' intercourse between the mind and the object. "J 

That both of these very acute writers, too, understood, 
in its literal sense, the word resemblance, as employed by 
Locke, to express the conformity between our ideas of 
primary qualities and their ^//j&po^e't/ archetypes, is demon- 
strated by the stress which they have laid on this very 
word, in their celebrated argument against the existence 
of the material world. This argument (in which Hume 
entirely acquiesces) is thus stated by Berkeley: 

" As for our senses, by them we have the knowledge 



* The word feelings whether used here literally or figuratively, 
can, it is evident, be applied only to what is the immediate subject 
of consciousness. 

t Of the Idea of Necessary Connexion, Part I. 

\ Essay on the Academical or Sceptical Philosophy^ 



A' 



8^ ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [E^say I, 

''only of our sensations, ideas, or those things that are 
" immediately perceived by sense, call them what you 
" will; but they do not inform us, that things exist with- 

" " out a mind, or unperceived; — like to those which are 
^^ perceivedy^ On the contrary, " as there can be no no- 
" tion or thought but in a thinking being, so there can be 
" no sensation but in a sentient being; it is the act or feel- 
'' ing of a sentient being; its very essence consists in be- 
" ing felt. Nothing can resemble a sensation, but a simi- 

' '' lar sensation in the same, or in some other mind. To 
*' think that any quality in a thing inanimate czxi resemble 
" a sensation is absurd, and a contradiction in terms." 

It was already observed, how inconsistent this account 
of the origin of our ideas, as given by Locke, Berkeley, 
and Hume, is, with some conclusions to which we were 
led, in a former part of this discussion; — our conclusions, 
for example, with respect to the origin of our notions con- 
cerning our own existence, and our personal identity^ 
Neither of these notions are derived immediately from 
consciousness; nor yet are they copies of any thing of 
^ which the human mind could ever have been conscious; 
and accordingly Mr. Hume, true to his principles, rejects 
i the belief, not only of the existence of the material world, 
but of the human mind itself, and of every thing else but 
impressions and ideas. The force of his argument on this 
subject, as well as of that alleged by Berkeley to disprove 
the existence of matter^ (both of which I consider as de- 
monstratively deduced from Locke's Theory,) I propose 
to examine afterwards in a separate Essay. At present, 
I only wish to infer from v/hat has been stated, that, accor- 

* Principles of Hum'an Knowledge, Sect. 18. . 



<;hap. III. J SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 87 

ding to the most probable interpretation of Locke's own 
meaning, and according to the unquestionable interpreta- 
tion given to his words by Berkeley and Hume, his ac- 
count of the origin of our ideas amounts to this, that we 
have no knowledge of any thing which we do not either 
learn from consciousness, at the present moment, or (\ 

which is not treasured Up in our minds, as a copy of what .^ 
we were conscious of on some former occasion. 

The constant reference which is made, in these times, 
by philosophers of every description, to sensation and re- 
flection, as the sources of all our knowledge; and the va- 
riety of acceptations in which this language may be under- 
stood, render it a matter of essential im.portance, in the 
examination of any particular system, that it should be 
distinctly ascertained, not only in what precise sense the au- 
thor has adopted this very indefinite and ambiguous prin- 
ciple, but whether he has adhered uniformly to the same 
interpretation of it, in the course of his reasonings. In 
one sense of the proposition, (that, I mean, in which it 
stands opposed to the innate ideas of Des Cartes) I have 
already said, that it appears to myself to express a truth 
of high importance in the science of mind; and it has 
probably been in this obvious and unsuspicious accepta- 
tion, that it has been so readily and so generally assented 
to by modern philosophers. The great misfortune has 
been, that most of these, after having adopted the propo- 
sition in its most unexceptionable form, have, in the sub- 
sequent study of the applications made of it by Locke, un- 
consciously imbibed, as an essential part of it, a scholas- 
tic prejudice with which it happened to be blended in his 
imagination, and which, since his time, has contributed 



88 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I 

more than any other error, to mislead the inquiries of his 
successors. 

In order to illustrate a litde further this very abstract 
subject, I shall add to the quotations already produced 
two short extracts from Dr. Hutcheson; an author by no 
means blind to Locke's defects, but who evidently ac- 
quiesced implicitly in his account of the origin of our 
ideas, according to the most exceptionable interpretation 
of which it admits. 

** All the ideas, or the materials of our reasoning and 
P^'* judging, are received by some immediate powers of per- 
" ception, internal or external, which we may call senses. 
*' Reasoning or intellect seems to raise no new species of 
*' ideas, but to discover or discern the relations of those 
" received." — Of the full import of this proposition in the 
writer's own mind, he has put it in our power to judge, by 
a passage in another of his publications, where he has re- 
*narked, with singular acuteness, that '* extension, figure, 
" motion, and rest, seem to be more properly ideas ac- 
*' company ing the sensations of sight and touch, than the 
" sensations of either of those senses." The exception 
-made by Hutcheson with respect to the particular ideas 
here enumerated, affords a satisfactory comment on the 
meaning which he annexed to Locke's principle, in its 
general applications. From the cautious and doubtful 
manner in which it is stated, it is more than probable, 
that he regarded this exception as almost, if not altogether 
solitary. 

The peculiarity which Hutcheson had the merit of 
first remarking, with respect to our ideas of extension, 
figure, and motion, might, one should have thought, 
have led him to conjecture, that Locke's principle, when 



Chap. III.] SOURCES 01'^ HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 89 

applied to some of the other objects of our knowledge, 
would perhaps require an analogous latitude of construc- 
tion. But no hint of such a suspicion occurs, as far as I 
recollect, in any part of his writings; nor does it appear 
that he was at all aware of the importance of the criti- 
cism on which he had stumbled. The fact is, as I shall 
have occasion to show in another essay, he had anticipa- 
ted the very instances which were afterwards appealed to 
by Reid, as furnishing an experimentum cruets, in sup- y. 
port of his own reasonings against the ideal theory. 

The clause, however, in these exracts which bears most 
directly on our present subject, is Dr. Hutcheson's as- 
sertion, (in exact conformity to Locke's doctrine) '' that 
" all the ideas or materials of our reasoning are received ^ 
" by certain senses, internal or external; and that reason- 
" ing or intellect raises no nev/ species of ideas, but only 
^' discerns the relations of those received." 

To this assertion various conclusions, which we have 
been led to in a former part of this chapter, present un- 
surmountable objections; — those conclusions, more espe- 
cially, which regard the simple ideas implied or involved, 
in certain intuitive judgments of the mind. Thus, it is 
surely an intuitive truth, that the sensations of which I 
am now conscious, and all those of which I retain any 
remembrance, belong to one and the same being, which I 
call myself. Here is an intuitive judgment, involving the 
simple idea o{ personal identity. In like manner, the changes 
of which I am conscious in the state of my own mind, 
and those which I perceive in the external universe, im- 
press me with a conviction, that some cause must have 
operated to produce them. Here is an intuitive judgment, 
involving the simple idea of causation. — To these and 



90 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OP THE [Essay I. 

other instances of the same kind, may be added our ideas 
o^time; oi number; oi truth; oi certainty; o^ probability;— 
all of which, while they are manifestly peculiar to a ra- 
tional mind, necessarily arise in the human understand- 
ing, when employed in the exercise of its different facul- 
ties. To say, therefore, with Cud worth, and some of the 
Greek philosophers, that Reason, or the Understanding, 
is a source of new ideas, is not so exceptionable a mode 
of speaking, as it may appear to be, at first sight, to those 
whose reading has not extended beyond Locke's Essay. 
According to the system there taught, sense furnishes our 
ideas, and reason perceives their agreements or disagree- 
ments. But the truth is, that what Locke calls agreements 
and disagreements^ are, in many instances, simple ideas, 
of which no analysis can be given; and of which the origin 
must therefore be referred to Reason, according to 
Locke's own doctrine.* 

These observations seem to go far to justify the re- 
mark long ago made by the learned and ingenious Mr. 
Harris, that, " though sensible objects may be the des- 
" tined medium to awaken the dormant energies of the un- 
" derstanding, yet are the energies themselves no more 
*•*• contained in sense ^ than the explosion of a cannon in the 
" spark that gave it fire."! 

The illustration which Cudworth had given, almost a 
century before, in his simple and unadorned language, of 
the same important truth, while it is correctly and pro- 
foundly philosophical, exhibits a view, so happily ima- 
gined, of the characteristical endowments or capacities of 

* The same observation is made by Dr. Price in his Review of the 
Frinciiial Questions and Difficulties in Morals, p. 49, 2d edit, 
t Hermes, Book iii. chap. iv. 



Chap. III.] SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 91 

the human intellect, considered in contrast with the sub- 
ordinate ministry of the senses, as to rival in its effect the 
sublime impressions of poetical description. " The mind 
" perceives, by occasion of outward objects, as much 
" more than is represented to it by sense, as a learned 
" man does in the best written book, than an illiterate 
" person or brute. To the eyes of both the same cha^ 
" racters will appear; but the learned man, in those cha- 
" racters, will see heaven, earth, sun, and stars; read 
"profound theorems 1of philosophy or geometry; learn a 
" great deal of new knowledge from them, and admire 
" the wisdom of the composer; while to the other nothing 
** appears but black strokes drawn on white paper."* 

In the works of Leibnitz various passages occur, ex- 
tremely similar in their spirit to those which have just 
been quoted. One of these I select, in preference to the 
rest, because it shows how early and how clearly he 
perceived that very vulnerable point of Lockers philoso- 
phy, against which the foregoing reasonings have been 
directed . 

" In Locke's Essay, there are some particulars not un- 
" successfully expounded; but, on the whole, he has wan- 
" dered widely from his object; nor has he formed a just 
'^ notion of the nature of truth SLud of the human mind. — 
** He seems, too, not to have been sufficiently aware, that 
"the ideas of existence, of personal identity, of truth, be- 
" sides many others, may be said (in one sense) to be 
" innate in the mind; inasmuch as they are necessarily 
" unfolded by the exercise of its faculties. In other words, 
" when we affirm that there is nothing in the intellect which 

* Treatise of Immutable Morality, B. iv. c. ii. 



92 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE L'Essay L 

" was not previously in the senses, we must be always un- 
'* derstood to except the intellectual powers themselves, 
" and the simple ideas which are necessarily implied in 
" our intellectual operations,"* 

In quoting these strictures upon Locke, I would not be 
understood to approve of the use which Leibnitz has here 
made of the word innate; as I think it is liable, in some de- 
gree, to the same objections which apply to the innate 
ideas of Des Cartes. 

In both authors, this form of expression seems to im- 
ply, not only that ideas have an existence distinct from 
the faculty of thinking, but that some ideas, at least, form 
part of the original furniture of the mind; presenting to 
it treasures of knowledge, which it has only to examine 
by abstracted meditation, in order to arrive at the most 
sublime truths. The same remark may be extended to 
certain doctrines, w^hich Mr. Harris has connected with 
a passage already quoted from his Hermes; and also to 
the speculations of Dr. Price concerning the origin of our 
ideas, in his Review of the Principal Questions and Diffi- 
culties in Morals, Of the limited functions oi sense, these 
two very candid and profound inquirers were fully aware; 
but, like the other writers, they have blended, with their 

* As, in the above paragraph, I have departed a little from Leib- 
nitz's language, in order to render his meaning somewhat more ob- 
vious to my readers, I think it proper to subjoin the words of the 
original. 

" In Lockio sunt qu3edam particularia non male exposita, sed in 
" summalonge aberravit a janua, nee naturam mentis veritatisque in- 
" tellexit. Idem non satis animadvertit ideas entis, substantiae, unius 
" et ejusdem, veri, boni, aliasque multas menti nostrse idco zmiatas 
" esse, quia ipsa innata est sibi, et in se ipsa hasc omnia deprehendit. 
" Nempe, nihil est in inteliectu, quod non fuerit in scnsu, nisi ipse 
*' intellectus." — Tom. V. p. 35 5. (Edit. Dntens,) 



Chap. IH.] SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 93 

Statement of this important fact, hypothetical expressions 
and notions, calculated to impose on an unreflecting reader, 
by a specious explanation of a mystery, placed beyond 
the reach of the human faculties.^ The supposition in 
which all these different philosophers seem to have agreed, 
of the existence of latent ideas in the mind, previous 
to the exercise of the senses, (a supposition bordering 
nearly on the old Platonic scheme of the soul's reminis- 
cence) cannot be guarded against with too great caution; 
but, as to the arguments in the Essay of Human Under- 
standing, which have exposed the phrase innate ideas to 
the ridicule of Locke's followers, I must own, that they 
have very little weight with me, when I recollect that 
Locke himself, no less than Des Cartes, gave his express 
sanction to the Ideal Theory. If that theory be rejected, 
and the word idea be understood as exactly synonymous 
with thought or notion^ the phrase innate ideas becomes 
much less exceptionable; implying nothing more (though 
perhaps not in the plainest language) than the following 
propositions, which I have already endeavoured to prove: 
'* That there are many of our most familiar notions (alto- 
** gether unsusceptible of analysis) which relate to things 
" bearing no resemblance either to any of the sensible 
" qualities of matter, or to any mental operation which is 
" the direct object of consciousness; which notions, there- 

* What I mean, in this instance, by a mixture of fact and of hypo- 
thesis, will be still more clearly illustrated by two quotations from 
Mr. Harris's notes; which have the merit of stating- fairly and ex- 
plicitly the theories of their respective authors, without any attempt 
to keep their absurdity out of view (according to the practice of 
their modern disciples) by a form of words, in which they are only 
obscurely hinted to the fancy. For these quotations, see Note (C). 



94 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I. 

^* fore, (although the senses may furnish ihtjirst occa- 
** sions on which they occur to the understanding) can 
" neither be referred to sensation nor to reflection, as their 
^''fountains or sources, in the acceptation in which these 
*' words are employed by Locke."* 

The period at which these thoughts first arise in the 
mind is a matter of little consequence, provided it can be 
shown to be a law of our constitution that they do arise, 
whenever the proper occasions are presented. The same 
thing may be said with respect to what Locke calls m- 
7iate practical principles; and also with respect to what 
other writers have called innate affections of human na- 
ture. The existence of both of these some have affirmed, 
and others denied, without any suspicion that the contro- 
versy between them turned on little more than the mean- 
ing of a word. 

* D'Alembert's opinion on this question, although not uniformly 
maintained through all his philosophical speculations, appears to 
have coincided nearly with mine, when he wrote the following sen- 
tence. 

" Les idees innces sont une chimere que Texperience reprouve; 
'' mais la maniere dont nous acquerons des sensations et des idees 
" reflechies, quoique prouvees par la meme experience, n'est pas 
'' moins incomprehensible. "—(JB/<?77^.^e Phil, article Metaphysique.) 

From various other passages of D'AIembert's writings, it might 
be easily shown, that by the manner of acquiring sensations, he here 
means, the manner in ivhich we acquire our knowledge of the firimary 
qualities of matter; and that the incomprehensibility he alludes to, re- 
fers to the difficulty of conceiving how sensations, which are the 
proper subjects of consciousness, should suggest the knowledge of 
external things, to which they bear no rese?n5lance, 



Chap. IV.] SOURCES OF PIUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 95 



CHAPTER FOURTfL 

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 

Mr. LOCKE'S quibbles, founded on the word in-^ 
nate, were early remarked by Lord Shaftesbury. *' Innate 
" is a word he poorly plays upon; the right word, though 
^ " less used, is connatural. For what has birth, or progress 
** of the foetus out of the womb, to do in this case? The 

* If any of my readers should think, that, in this section, I make 
too wide, and too abrupt a transiiion from the question concerning 
the origin of our knowledge, to that which relates to the mocal con- 
stitution of human nature, I must beg leave to remind them that, 
in doing so, I am only following Mr. Locke's arrangement in his 
elaborate argument against innate ideas. The indefinite use which 
he there makes of the word idea^ is the chief source of the confusion 
which runs through that discussion. It is justly observed by Mr. 
Hume, that " he employs it in a very loose sense, as standing for 
*' any of our perceptions, our sensations and passions, as well as 
" thoughts." — '* Now, in this sense" (continues Mr. Hume) " I 
*' should desire to know what can be meant by asserting, that self- 
" love, or resentment of injuries, or the passion of love between the 
** sexes, is not innate?" The following passage which forms a part 
of the same note, bears a close resemblance in its spirit to that quo- 
ted in the text from Lord Shaftesbury. 

"It must be confessed, that the terms employed by those w^ho 
" denied innate ideas, were not chosen with such caution, nor so ex- 
" actly defined, as to prevent all mistakes about their doctrine. For 
" what is meant by innate? If iimate be equivalent to natural, then 
" all the perceptions and ideas of the mind must be allowed to be inn'ate 
*' or natural, in whatever sense we take the latter word, whether in 
" opposition to uncommon, artificial, or miraculous. If by innate be 
*' meant contemporary to our birth, the dispute seems to be frivo- 
" lous; nor is it worth while to inquire at what time thinking begins, 
« whether before or after oar birth." — Hume's Essays, Vol. U. 
INoteA^ 



^- 



96 ON LOCKERS ACCOUNT Of THE [Essay I 

*' question is not about the time the ideas entered, or the 
'* moment that one body came out of the other; but whe- 
" ther the constitution of man be such, that being adult 
** or grown up, at such or such a time, sooner or later, 
'* (no matter when) certain ideas will not hifallibly, in- 
*'evitably, necessarily spring up m him."* 

It has often struck me as a very remarkable circum- 
stance, after what Locke has written with so much zeal 
against innate principles, both speculative and practical^ 
that his own opinion upon this subject, as distinctly sta- 
ted by himself in other parts of his works, does not seem 
to have been, at bottom, so very different from Lord 
Shaftesbury's, as either of these eminent writers imagined. 
All that has been commonly regarded as most pernicious 
in the first book of his essay, is completely disavowed 
and done away by the following very explicit declaration: 

" He that hath the idea of an intelligent, but frail and 
'* weak being, made by and depending on another, who 
'* is omnipotent, perfectly wise and good, will as certainly 
'* know, that man is to honour, fear, and obey God, as 
'* that the sun shines when he sees it. For if he hath but 
*' the idea of two such beings in his mind, and will turn 
'* his thoughts that way and consider them, he will as 
*♦ certainly find, that the inferior, finite, and dependent, is 
'* under an obligation to obey the supreme and infinite, 
" as he is certain to find that three y four, and seven are 
'* less \km\ fifteen, if he will consider and compute those 

* I have substituted, in this quotation, the phrase certain ideas, 
instead of Shaftesbury*s example, — the ideas of order, administra- 
tion, and a God; with the view of separating his general observation 
from the particular application Avhich he wished to make of it, in 
the tract from v/hich this quotation is borrowed. — (See Letters to a 
Student at the University, Letter 8.) 



Chap. rV.] SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 97 

** numbers; nor can he be surer in a clear morning that 
** the sun is risen, if he will but open his eyes, and turn 
** them that way. But yet these truths being never so cer- 
*' tain, never so clear, he may be ignorant of either, or all 
** of them, who will never take the pains to employ his 
"faculties as he should to inform himself about them."* 

It would not be easy to find a better illustration than 
this of the truth of Locke's observation, that most of the 
controversies among philosophers are merely verbal. The 
advantage, in point of unequivocal expression, is surely, 
in the present instance, not on his side; but notwithstand- 
ing the apparent scope of his argument, and still more, of 
the absurd fables which he has quoted in its support, the 
foregoing passage is sufficient to demonstrate, that he did 
not himself interpret (as many of his adversaries, and I 
am sorry to add, some of his admirers, have done,) his 
reasonings against innate ideas, as leading to any conclu- 
sion inconsistent with the certainty of human knowledge, 
or with the reality and immutability of moral distinc- 
tions. 

I have enlarged on this collateral topic at greater length 
than I would otherwise have done, in consequence chiefly 
of the application which has been made, since Locke's 
time, of the principles which I have been controverting 
in the preceding chapters, to the establishment of a doc» 
trine subversive of all our reasonings concerning the mo- 
ral administration of the universe. Dr. Hutcheson, one of 
the most zealous, and most able advocates for morality, 
seems to have paved the way for the scepticism of some 
of his successors, by the unguarded facility with which, 

* Locke's Essay, B. iv. c. xiii. § S, 

N 



98 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I. 

notwithstanding his hostility to Locke's conclusions con- 
cerning innate practical principles^ he adopted his opi- 
nions, and the peculiarities of his phraseology, with re- 
spect to the origin of our ideas in general. I already ob- 
served, that, according to both these writers, " it is the 
" province of sense to introduce ideas into the mind; and 
" of reason, to compare them together, and to trace their 
" relations;" — a very arbitrary and unfounded assump- 
tion, undoubtedly, as I trust has been sufficiently proved in 
a former part of this argument; but from which it follow- 
ed as a necessary consequence, that, if the words right 
and wrong express simple ideas, the origin of these ideas 
must be referred, not to reason, but to some appropriate 
power o^ perception. To this power Hutcheson, after the 
example of Shaftesbury, gave the name of the moral sense; 
a phrase which has now grown into such familiar use, 
that it is occasionally employed by many who never think 
of connecting it with any particular philosophical theory* 
Hutcheson himself was evidently apprehensive of the 
consequences which his language might be supposed to 
involve; and he has endeavoured to guard against them, 
though with very little success, in the following caution: 
*' Let none imagine, that calling the ideas of virtue and vice 
'* perceptions of sense, upon apprehending the actions 
" and affections of another, does diminish their reality, 
" more than the like assertions concerning all pleasure 
'' and pain, happiness or misery. Our reason often cor- 
" rects the report of our senses about the natural tenden- 
" cy of the external action, and corrects such rash conclu- 
** sions about the affections of the agent. But whether our 
" moral sense be subject to such a disorder as to have 
" different perceptions from the same apprehended affec- 



Chap. IV.j SOURCES OP HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 99 

*^ tions in any agent, at different times, as the eye may 
** have of the colours of an unaltered object, it is not easy 
** to determine: perhaps it will be hard to find any in- 
" stances of such a change. What reason could correct, 
*' if it fell into such a disorder, I know not; except sug- 
** gesting to its remembrance its former approbations, and 
*' representing the general sense of mankind. But this 
" does not prove ideas of virtue and vice to be previous 
** to a sense, more than a like correction of the ideas of 
" colour in a person under the jaundice, proves that co- 
** lours are perceived by reason, previously to sense." 

Mr. Hume was not to be imposed upon by such an 
evasion; and he has accordingly, with his usual acuteness, 
pushed this scheme of morals (which he evidently adopt- - 
ed from Hutcheson and Shaftesbury) to its ultimate and 
its legitimate conclusion. The words right and wrong, 
(he asserted) if they express a distinction at all analogous 
to that between an agreeable and a disagreeable colour, 
can signify nothing in the actions to which they are ap- 
plied, but only certain effects in the mind of the spec- 
tator. As it is improper, therefore, (according to the, , 
doctrines of Locke's philosophy) to say of an object of 
taste that it is sweet, or of heat that it is in the fire, so it is >- 
equally improper to speak of morality as a thing indepen- 
dent and unchangeable. *' Were I not" (says he) " afraid 
" of appearing too philosophical, I should remind my rea- 
" ders of that famous doctrine, supposed to be fully 
** proved in modern times, ' that taste and colours, and 
" all other sensible qualities, lie, not in the bodies, but - 
" merely in the senses.' The case is the same with beauty -^ 
"and deformity, virtue and vlceJ^'^^ In consequence of 

* Hume's Essays, Vol. I. Note (F), 



100 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Essay I. 

this view of the subject, he has been led to represent mo- 
rality, as the object, not of reason, but of taste; the dis- 
tinct offices of which he thus describes: " The former 
" conveys the knowledge of truth and falsehood: the latter 
" gives the sentiment of beauty and deformity, vice and 
" virtue. The one discovers objects, as they really stand 
*' in nature, without addition or diminution: the other has 
*' a productive quality, and, gilding or staining all natu- 
" ral objects with the colours borrowed from internal 
" sentiment, raises, in a manner, a new creation."* 

Without abandoning the hypothesis of a tnoral sense, 
Hutcheson might, I think, have made a plausible defence 
at least, against such inferences as these, by availing him- 
self of the very ingenious and original remark which I 
already quotedf from his own works, with respect to ex- 
tension, figure, and inotion. Unfortunately, he borrowed 
almost all his illustrations from the secondary qualities of 
matter; whereas, had he compared the manner in which 
we acquire our notions of right and wrong, to our per- 
ception of such qualities as extension and figure, his lan- 
guage, if not more philosophical than it is, would have 
been quite inapplicable to such purposes, as it has been 
since made subservient to, by his sceptical followers. 

Extension was certainly a quality peculiarly fitted for 
obviating the cavils of his adversaries; the notion of it 
(although none can doubt that it was originally suggested 
hy seyise,) involving in its very nature an irresistible belief 
that its object possesses an existence, not only independent 
of our perceptions, but necessary and eternal, like the truth 
of a mathematical theorem. 

* Hume's Essays, Vol.11. Appendix, concerning Moral Sentiment, 
t See p. 88. 



Chap. IV.] SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE . 10 1 

The solid answer, however, to the sceptical conse- 
quences deduced from the theory of a moral sense, is, to 
deny the hypothesis which it assumes with respect to the 
distinct provinces of sense and of reason. That the origin 
of our notions of right and wrong is to be referred to the 
latter part of our constitution, and not to the former, I 
shall endeavour to show in another work. At present, I 
shall only observe, that how offensive soever this language 
may be to those whose ears have been exclusively fami- 
liarized to the logical phraseology of Locke, it is perfectly 
agreeable to the common apprehensions of mankind; 
which have, in all ages, led them to consider it, not only as 
one of the functions of reason, but as its primary and 
most important function, to guide our choice, in the con- 
duct of life, between right and wrong, good and evil. — 
The decisions of the understanding, it must be owned, 
with respect to moral truth, diifer from those which re- 
late to a mathematical theorem, or to the result of a che- 
mical ex,periment, inasmuch as they are always accompa- 
nied with some feeling or emotion of the heart; but on an 
accurate analysis of this compounded sentiment,"^ it will 
be found, that it is the intellectual judgment which is the 
ground-work of the feeling, and not the feeling of the 
judgment. 

Nor is the language which I have adopted, in prefer- 
ence to that of Locke, with respect to the origin of our 
moral notions, sanctioned merely by popular authority. 
It coincides exactly with the mode of speaking employed 
by the soundest philosophers of antiquity. In Plato's 
Theaetetus, Socrates observes, " that it cannot be any of 
'' the powers of sense that compares the perceptions of 

♦ See Note (D). 



102 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE [Esiay. I. 

" all the senses, and apprehends the general affections of 
" things;" asserting, in opposition to Protagoras, that 
" this power is reason, or the governing principle of the 
" mind." — To illustrate what he means by the general 
affections of things, he mentions, as examples, identity, 
number, similitude, dissimilitude, equality , inequality, kccKqv 
;cfl6i flt/(r;:^^ov; — an enumeration which is of itself sufficient 
to show, how very nearly his view of this subject ap- 
proached to the conclusions which I have been endea- 
vouring to establish concerning the origin of our know- 
ledge.* The sentence which immediately follows could 
not have been more pointedly expressed, if the author 
had been combating the doctrine of a moral sense, as 
explained by Dr. Hutcheson: *' It seems to me, that for 
** acquiring these notions, there is not appointed any dis- 
*' tinct or appropriate organ; but that the mind derives 
" them from the same powers by which it is enabled to 
** contemplate and to investigate truth. "f 

* See upon this subject Cud worth's Immutable Morality, p. 100, 
et seq. and Price's Review, Sec. p. 50, 2d Edit. 

t Moi ^6>c«— -OYA 'EINAI TOIOTTON OYAEN TOYTOIS OPFA- 
NON I A ION, ««AA' ccvrvi ^t ecvrm n "^v^vi rot tccivx f*o( (pccivireti jrepi ^xvlav 
e'^i<rxo7r»v — 'Ofiajg 2e roa-^rov ye ^r^cif/ii'vyiKXf/.iv, avit fin ^jjt«v ecvrnv («»•/- 
f))|W.)5v) sv ccicrB'via'ei ro TetPoCTrxv, csXA ev zkhvco tea «v«^otT<, oti Tor t^ei « 
•v/zypk^)) orav ocvr/i kxB-* uvt'/iv 7rpccyfA,acrivr,rcii vepi TA ONTA. 

The reproduction of the same philosophical doctrines, in different 
ages, in consequence of a recurrence of similar circumstances, has 
been often remarked as a curious fact in the history of the human 
mind. In the case now before us, the expressions which Plato puts 
into the mouth of Socrates, can be accounted for only by the won- 
derful similarity between the doctrines of Protagoras and those of 
some modern sceptics. " Nothing" (according to Protagoras) " is 
" true or false, any more than sweet or sour in itself, but relatively 
" to the perceiving mind." — " Man is the measure of all things; and 
" every thing is that, and no other, which to every one it seems to be; 
" so that there can be nothing true, nothing existent, distinct from 



Chap.rV.] SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 103 

The discussion into which we have been thus led al- 
most insensibly, about the ethical scepticism which seems 
naturally to result from Locke's account of the origin of 
our ideas, while it serves to demonstrate how intimate 
the connection is between those questions in the science 
of mind, which, on a superficial view, may be supposed 
to be altogether independent of each other, will, I hope, 
suggest an apology for the length of some of my argu- 
ments upon scholastic questions, apparently foreign to 
every purpose of practical utility. I must, more especially, 
request, that this consideration may be attended to, when 
I so often recur in these pages to the paradox of Hume 
and Berkeley concerning the existence of the material 
world. It is not that I regard this theory of idealism, when 
considered by itself, as an error of any serious moment; 
but because an examination of it affords, in my opinion, 
the most palpable and direct means of exploding that prin- 
ciple of Locke, to which the most serious of Mr. Hume's 
sceptical conclusions, as well as this comparatively inof- 
fensive tenet, may be traced as to their common root. In 
offering this apology, I would not be understood to mag- 
nify, beyond their just value, the inquiries in which we 
have been now engaged, or those which are immediately 
to follow. Their utility is altogether accidental; arising, 
not from the positive accession they bring to our stock 
of scientific truths, but from the pernicious tendency of 
the doctrines to which they are opposed. On this occa- 
sion, therefore, I am perfectly willing to acquiesce in the 

« the mind's own perceptions." This last maxim, indeed, is men- 
tioned as the fundamental principle of the theory of this ancient 
sceptic. nx¥TUv ^^nf^otrMV /^erpov av^^uTtov. Mir^ov Uatov nfccjv avxi xav n 
dfTofv KHt fx,ri. Tx ^xttotizvx ZKois-dff^ Txvra r.oti ^tvy.i. Plato The?etet. 



104 ON LOCKE'S ACCOUNT, &c. [Essay I. 

estimate formed by Mr. Tucker of the limited importance 
of metaphysical studies; however much I may be inclin- 
ed to dispute the universality of its application to all the 
different branches of the intellectual philosophy. Indeed, I 
shall esteem myself fortunate (considering the magnitude 
of the errors which I have been attempting to correct) if 
I shall be found to have merited, in any degree, the praise 
of that humble usefulness which he has so beautifully de- 
scribed in the following words: 

*' The science of abstruse learning, when completely 
** attained, is like Achilles's spear, that healed the wovmds 
*' it had made before. It casts no additional light upon 
" the paths of life, but disperses the clouds with which it 
" had overspread them; it advances not the traveller one 
" step on his journey, but conducts him back again to the 
"spot from whence he had wandered."* 

* Light of Nature Pursued. Introd. xxxiii. (London^ 1768.) 



ESSAY SECOND. 

ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 



CHAPTER FIRST. 

ON SOME PREVAILING MISTAKES WITH RESPECT TO THS IMPORT AND 
AIM OF THE BERKELEIAN SYSTEM. 

It is not my intention, in this essay, to enter at all into 
the argument with respect to the truth of the Berkeleian 
theory; but only to correct some mistakes concerning the 
nature and scope of that speculation, which have misled 
many of its partizans as well as of its opponents. Of these 
mistakes there are two which more particularly deserve 
our attention. The one confounds the scheme of idealism 
with those sceptical doctrines, which represent the exist- 
ence of the material world as a thing which is doubtful: 
the other confounds it with the physical theory of Bosco- 
vich, which, while it disputes the correctness of the com- 
monly received opinions about some of the qualities of 
matter, leaves altogether untouched the metaphysical o^ts- 
tion, whether matter possesses an independent existence, 
or not? 

1. It is well known to all who have the slightest ac* 
quaintance with the history of philosophy, that, among 
the various topics on which the ancient sceptics exercised 

O 



106 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY, [Esaay U 

their ingenuity, the question concerning the existence of 
the material world was always a favourite subject of dis- 
putation. Some doubts on the same point occur even in 
the writings of philosophers, whose general leaning seems 
to have been to the opposite extreme of dogmatism. Plato 
himself has given them some countenance, by hinting it 
as a thing not quite impossible, that human life is a con- 
tinued sleep, and that all our thoughts are only dreams.* 
This scepticism (which I am inclined to think most per- 
sons have occasionally experienced in their early yearsf) 
proceeds on principles totally different from the doctrine 
of Berkeley, who asserts, with the most dogmatical confi- 
dence, that the existence of matter is impossible, and that 
the very supposition of it is absurd. " The existence of 
*' bodies out of a mind perceiving them," (he tells us ex- 
plicitly) " is not only impossible, and a contradiction in 
" terms; but were it possible, and even real, it were im- 
*' possible we should ever know it." 

The attempt of Berkeley to disprove the existence of 
the material world, took its rise from the attempt of Des 
Cartes to demonstrate the truth of the contrary proposition. 
Both undertakings were equally unphilosophical; for, to 
argue in favour of any of the fundamental laws of human 
belief is not less absurd than to call them in question. 
In this argument, however, it must be granted, that Berke- 
ley had the advantage; the conclusion which he formed 
being unavoidable, if the common principles be admitted 

* Ti »v rig ep^ot riKfxi/i^tov UTro^et^uiy « ng ipotro, vvv Htmg 69 tu vrctfcvTiy 

t " We are such stuff 

" As dreams are made on, and our little life 

<5 Is rounded with a sleep." — Shakspeare, Temfiest* 



Chap. I.] ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 107 

on which they both proceeded. * It was reserved for Dr. 
Reid to show, that these principles are not only unsup- 
ported by any proof, but contrary to incontestable facts; 
nay, that they are utterly inconceivable from the mani- 
fest inconsistencies and absurdities which they involve.f 
All this he has placed in so clear and strong a light, that 
Dr. Priestley, the most acute of his antagonists, has found 
nothing to object to his argument, but that it is directed 
against a phantom of his own creation, and that the opin- 
ions which he combats were never seriously maintained 
by any philosophers, ancient or modern. J 

With respect to Mr. Hume, who is commonly consi- 
dered as an advocate for Berkeley's system, the remarks 
which I have offered on the latter writer must be under- 
stood with great limitations. For, although his fundamen- 
tal principles lead necessarily to Berkeley's conclusion, 
and although he has frequently drawn from them this con- 
clusion himself, yet, on other occasions, he relapses into 
the language of doubt, and only speaks of the existence 
of the material world, as a thing of which we have not 
satisfactory evidence. The truth is, that, whereas Berke- 
ley was sincerely and bona fide an idealist, Hume's lea- 
ding object, in his metaphysical writings, plainly was to 
inculcate a universal scepticism. In this respect, the real 
scope of his arguments has, I think, been misunderstood 
by most, if not by all of his opponents. It evidently was 
not, as they seem to have supposed, to exalt reasoning in 
preference to our instinctive principles of belief; but by 
illustrating the contradictory conclusions to which our 
different faculties lead, to involve the whole subject in 

* Note (E). t Note (F). \ Note (G). 



108 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay IT. 

the same suspicious darkness. In other words, his aim 
was not to interrogate Nature, with a view to the discov- 
ery of truth, but by a cross-examination of Nature, to in- 
volve her in such contradictions, as might set aside the 
whole of her evidence as good for nothing. 

With respect to Berkeley, on the other hand, it ap- 
pears from his writings, not only that he considered his 
scheme of idealism as resting on demonstrative proof, but 
as more agreeable to the common apprehensions of man- 
kind, than the prevailing tlieories of philosophers, con- 
cerning the independent existence of the material world.; 
*' If the principles" (he observes in the Preface to his 
Dialogues) *' which I here endeavour to propagate arc 
" admitted for true, the consequences which I think evi- 
** dently flow from them are, that atheism and scepticism 
" will be utterly destroyed; many intricate points made 
" plain; great difficulties solved; speculation referred to 
*' practice; and men reduced from paradoxes to common 
*' sense." 

That Mr. Hume was perfectly aware of the essential 
difference between the aim of his own philosophy and that 
of Berkeley, is manifest from the following very curious 
note, in which, while he represents it as the common ten- 
dency of both to lead to scepticism, he assumes to him- 
self entirely the merit of this inference. After stating the 
argument against the existence of matter, he adds: *' This 
" argument is drawn from Dr. Berkeley; and indeed most 
" of the writings of that very ingenious author, form 
"the best lessons of scepticism which are to be found 
'' either among the ancient or modern philosophers, Bayle 
" not excepted. He professes, however, in his title-page, 
" (and undoubtedly with great truth) to have composed 



Chap. I.} ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 109 

** his book against the sceptics as well as against the 
*' atheists and free-thinkers. But that all his arguments, 
" though otherwise intended, are in reality merely scepti- 
" cal, appears from this, that they admit of no answer, and 
^^ produce no cofiviction. Their only effect is to cause that 
'' momentary amazement and irresolution and confusion 
" which is the result of scepticism." 

The observations which have been made on the scope 
of Berkeley's argument, may serve, at the same time, to 
illustrate that of Dr Reid's reply to it, which has been, in 
general, strangely misunderstood. In order to have ajust 
idea of this, it is necessary always to bear in mind, that it 
is not directed against the sceptical suggestions of the 
Pyrrhonists, but against Berkeley's inferences from 
Locke's principles; or rather against the principles from 
which these inferences were deduced. The object of the 
author is not to bring forward any new proofs that matter 
does exist, nor (as has been often very uncandidly af- 
firmed) to cut short all discussion upon this question, by 
an unphilosophical appeal to popular belief; but to over- 
turn the pretended demonstration, that matter does not 
exist, by exposing the futility and absurdity of the prin- 
ciples which it assumes as data. That from these data 
(which had been received, during a long succession of 
ages, as incontrovertible articles of faith,) both Berkeley 
and Hume have reasoned with unexceptionable fairness^ 
as well as incomparable acuteness, he acknowledges in 
every page of his works; and only asserts, that the force 
of their conclusion is annihilated by the falseness and in- 
consistency ot the hypothesis on which it rests. It is to 
reasoning, therefore, and to reasoning alone, that he ap- 
peals, in combating their doctrines; and the ground of 



110 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay It 

his objection to these doctrines is 7iot that they evince a 
blameable freedom and boldness of discussion; — but that 
their authors had suffered themselves too easily to be car- 
ried along by the received dogmas of the schools. 

The very gross misapprehensions which have taken 
place with respect to the scope of Dr. Reid's book have 
probably been owing, in part, to the unfortunate title 
which he prefixed to it, of " An Inquiry into the Human 
Mind, on the principles of Common Sense,^^ So far, how- 
ever, from meaning, by that phrase, to intimate a more 
than due respect for the established opinions of any par- 
ticular sect or party, it must appear evident, to those who 
have taken the trouble to read the work, that his sole in- 
tention was to disclaim that implicit reverence for the 
current maxims, and current phraseology of the learned, 
which had misled so widely his two illustrious predeces- 
sors, Berkeley and Hume; — to assert, in this most im- 
portant branch of science, an unlimited right of free in- 
quiry; and to set an example of this freedom, by appeal- 
ing from Locke's fundamental hypothesis (a hypothesis 
for which no argument can be produced but the authority 
of school-men,) to the unbiassed reason of the human race. 
It is this common reason of mankind which he uniformly 
represents as the ultimate standard of truth; and of its 
decisions he forms his estimate, neither from the suffrages 
of the learned nor of the ignorant, but from those funda- 
mental laws of belief which are manifested in the univer- 
sal conduct of mankind, in all ages and countries of the 
world; and to the guidance of which the speculative scep- 
tic must necessarily submit, the very moment he quits 
the solitude of the closet. It is not, therefore, vulgar 
prejudice that he wishes to oppose to philosophical spe- 
culation, but the essential principles of the human un- 



ghap.i:^ ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. Ill 

derstanding to the gratuitous assumptions of metaphysi- 
cal theorists. But on this topic I intend to explain my- 
self more fully on a future occasion. 

While Reid, however, in his controversy with Hume 
and Berkeley, thus opposes argument to argument, he 
does not follow the example of Des Cartes, in attempting 
to confirm our belief of the existence of matter, by the 
aid of deductive evidence. All such evidence, he justly 
observes, must necessarily take for granted some princi- 
ples not more certain nor more obvious than the thing to 
be proved; and therefore can add nothing to its authority 
with men who have duly weighed the nature of reason- 
ing and of demonstrative proof. Nor is this all. Where 
scepticism is founded on a suspicion of the possible falli- 
bility of the human faculties, the very idea of correcting it 
by an appeal to argument is nugatory; inasmuch as such an 
appeal virtually takes for granted the paramount autho- 
rity of those laws of belief which the sceptic calls in ques- 
tion. The belief, therefore, of the existence of matter, is 
left by Dr. Reid on the very same footing on which Des 
Cartes found it; open, as it then was, and as it must for 
ever remain, to the sceptical cavils which affect equally 
every judgment which the human mind is capable of 
forming; but freed completely from those metaphysical 
objections which assailed it, as at variance with the con- 
clusions of philosophy. 

But although, in so far as the argument of the Berke- 
leians is concerned. Dr. Reid's reasonings appear to me 
to be unanswerable, I am not completely satisfied that he 
has stated the fact on his own side of the question with 
sufficient fulness and correctness. The grounds of my 
hesitation on this point I propose to explain at some 
length, b the second chapter of this essay. In the mean 



112 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY, [Essay II. 

time, I think it of still greater importance, to caution my 
readers against another misapprehension (equally remote 
with the former from truth) by which the Berkeleian con- 
troversy has been involved, by some late writers, in ad- 
ditional obscurity. 

2. In order to prepare the way for the remarks which 
are to follow, it is necessary to observe (for the sake of 
those who are little conversant with the history of natu- 
ral philosophy), that, according to an ingenious theory, 
proposed about fifty years ago by Father Boscovich,* 
the notions which are commonly entertained concerning 
the qualities of matter, are the result of very rash and un- 
warranted inferences from the phenomena perceived. The 
ultimate elements (we are taught) of which matter is com- 
posed, are unextended atoms, or in other words, mathe- 
matical points^ endued with certain powers of* attraction 
and repulsion; and it is from these powers that all the 
physical appearances of the universe arise. The effects, 
for example, which are vulgarly ascribed to actual con- 
tact, are all produced by repulsive forces occupying those 
parts of space where bodies are perceived by our senses; 
and therefore the correct idea that we ought to annex to 
matter^ considered as an object of perception, is merely 
that of a power of resistance^ sufficient to counteract that 
compressing power which our physical strength enables 
us to exert. 

With regard to this theory, I shall not presume to give 
any decided opinion. That it is attended with some very 
puzzling difficulties of a metaphysical nature, must, I 
think, be granted by its most zealous advocates; but, on 
the other hand, it can scarcely be denied, that the author, 

* Theoria Philosophies Aatura/is. (First published at Vienna, in 
1758.) 



Chap, r.] ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. ^13 

or his commentators, have been successful in establishing 
three propositions. 1. That the supposition of particles, ex- 
tended and perfectly hard, is liable to strong, if not to in- 
surmountable objections. 2. That there are no facts which 
afford any direct evidence in support of it. And, 3. That 
there are some indisputable facts which favour the oppo- 
site hypothesis. In proof of the last proposition, among 
a variety of other arguments, an appeal has been made to 
the compressibility and elasticity of all known bodies; to 
their contraction by cold; and to certain optical and elec- 
trical experiments, which shew that various effects, which 
our imperfect senses lead us to ascribe to the actual con- 
tact of different bodies^ are, in fact, produced by a repul- 
sive power, extending to a real, though imperceptible dis- 
tance from their surfaces. The same phenomena, there- 
fore, may be produced by repulsion, which we commonly 
ascribe to contact; and if so,'^ why not refer to the same 
cause all effects of the same nature?^ 

* The following passage in Locke, when considered in connectipn 
^vith some others in his writings, would almost tempt one to thinlj;, 
that a theory concerning matter^ somewhat analogous to that of Bos- 
covic/i, had occasionally passed through his mind. — " Nay, possibly, 
" if we could emancipate ourselves from vulgar notions, and raise 
^' our thoughts as far as they could reach, to a closer contemplation 
" of things, we might be able to aim at some dim and seeming con- 
" ception, how matter might at first be made, and begin to exist by 
" the power of that eternal first Being. — -But this being what would 
" perhaps lead us too far from the notions on which the philosophy 
" now in the world is built, it would not be pardonable to deviate so 
" far from them as to inquire, so far as grammar itself would au- 
" thorize,if the common settled opinion opposes it." — Essay on Hu- 
man Understanding, Book iv. chap. x. § 18. 

Whosoever chooses to examine the grounds upon wlw'ch I have 
hazarded the foregoing observation, may compare the passage just 
quoted with what Locke has said of cohesion, in Bookii. chap. '^%i\i, 
C§ 23, 24, et seq. more particularly in ^§ 26 and 27. 



114 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY, [Essay IL 

. A theory, essentially the same with this, has been pro- 
posed of late by different writers in this island, who seem 
to have been led to it entirely by their own speculations, 
without any knowledge of its having been previously start- 
ed by another; and it has been in consequence of the 
particular view which some of them have taken of the 
subject, that the misapprehension which I am anxious at 
present to correct has chiefly arisen. In fact, the systems 
of Boscovich, and of Berkeley, have not the most remote 
relation to each other. The account, indeed, of some of 
the qualities of matter which is given in the former, is 
very different from that commonly entertained, but this 
account does not call in question the reality of matter, as 
an existence distinct from the perceiving mind. It does 
not affect, in the least, our notions of extension and figure; 
nor even those of hardness and softness, any further, than 
as it defines these qualities by the relation which they bear 
to our animal force. The resistance opposed to our efforts 
implies an existence distinct from ours, as much as the 

From the same passage, Di\ Reid conjectures, that " Locke had 
" a glimpse of the system which Berkeley afterwards advanced, 
" although he thought proper to suppress it within his own breast." 
(Essays on the Intell. Powers, p. 170.) I think it much more proba- 
ble, from the hints he has dropped in other parts of his essay, that 
he had some vague notion of a theory approaching to that of Bos- 
covich. The following remark confirms me in this conjecture: 

" Hardness consists in a firm cohesion of the parts of matter, mak- 
" ing up masses of a sensible bulk, so that the whole does not easily 
*' change its figure. And, indeed, hard and soft are names that we give 
" to things only in relation to the constitution of our own bodies; that 
*' being generally called hard by us, which will put us to pain soon- 
" er than change figure by the pressure of any part of our bodies; 
" and that, on the contrary, soft, which changes the situation of its 
" parts upon an easy and unpainful touch.'* Book ii. chap. iv. § 4. — 
See Note (H), 



Chap. I.] ON THE IDEALISM OP BERKELEY, 115 

efforts we are conscious of making imply our own exist- 
ence; and therefore, whether we proceed on the common 
notions concerning matter, or on the hypothesis of Bos- 
covich, the authority of that law of our nature which 
leads us to ascribe to things external an independent and 
permanent existence, remains unshaken. According to 
Berkeley, extension and figure, hardness and softness, / 
and all other sensible qualities, are mere ideas of the mind, 
which cannot possibly exist in an insentient substance.^ 

That the inference which I have now drawn against the 
scheme of idealism, from the theory of Boscovich, is per- ^~ 
fectly agreeable to the metaphysical views of that pro- » 
found and original philosopher, appears frqm various pas- 
sages in his works: in particular, from the following ob- 
servations, which I translate literally from one of his sup- 
plements to the didactic poem of Benedictus Stay, De 
Systemate Miindi: 

*' By the power of reflection, we are enabled to distin- 
" guish two different classes of ideas excited in our minds. 
" To some of these we are impelled, by a very powerful 
** instinct, common to all tnen, to ascribe an origin foreign 
" to the mind itself, and depending on certain external 
*' objects. Others, we believe with the most complete 
'' conviction to have their origin ih the mind, and to de- 

* A remark to the same purpose has been made by Mr. Smiths 
in his Essay on the External Senses. " Whatever system may be 
" adopted concerning the hardness or softness, the fluidity or soli- 
"dity, the compressibility or incompressibility of the resisting sub- 
" stance, the certainty of our distinct sense, and feeling of its ex- 
" ternality, or of its entire independency upon the organ which per- 
" ceives it, or by which we perceive it, cannot, in the smallest de- 
" gree, be affected by any such system."— Essays on Philosophical 
Subjects, p. 204. 



116 ON THE IDEALISM OP BERKELEY. [Essay H. 

*^ pend on the mind for their existence. The instruments 
" or organs by which we receive the fir^st kind of ideas 
*' are called the senses: their external cause, or, as it is 
" commonly called, the object^ is denoted by the words 
^^ matter and body. The source of the second class of our 
^* ideas (which we discover by reflecting on the subjects 
" of our own consciousness) is called the mind or soul. 

" In this manner we become acquainted with two dif- 
^' ferent kinds o{ substances (die ow/y substances of which 
'' we possess any knowledge); the one, a sensible or per- 
" ceptible substance; the other, a substance endowed with 
^' the powers of thought and of volition. Of the existende 
" of neither is it possible for us to doubt, (such is the force 
^' of those intimations w^e receive from nature); not even 
^'- in those cases when, offering violence to ourselves, we 
*^ listen to the suggestions of the Pyrrhonists and Egoists, 
" and other sophistical perverters of the truth. Nay, even 
" these sceptics themselves are forced to acknowledge, 
'' that whatever doubts they may have experienced in their 
" hours of speculation, vanish completely when tlie ob- 
^ ejects of their doubts are presented to their senses. "*^ 

I do not take upon me to defend the propriety of all the 
expressions employed in the foregoing passage. I quote 
it merely as a proof, that Boscovich himself did not con- 
ceive, that his peculiar notions concerning the nature of 
matter had the slightest tendency to favour the conclu- 
sions of Berkeley. On the contrary, he states his dissent 
from these conclusions in the strongest and most deci- 
ded terms; coinciding so exactly with Reid in the very 
phraseology he uses, as to afford a presumption, that it ap- 
proaches nearly to a correct and simple enunciation of the 

truth. 

*Rom3C, 1755. T. i. p. 33L 



Chap. I.] ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 117 

In the foregoing remarks on Boscovich's theory, con- 
'Sidered in contrast with that of Berkeley, I have had an 
eye chiefly to some speculations of the late Dr. Hutton; 
a philosopher eminently distinguished by originality of 
thought; and whose WTitings could not have failed to 
attract much more notice than they have yet done, if 
the great variety of his scientific pursuits had left him a 
little more leisure to cultivate the arts of composition and 
of arrangement. It would be fortunate, in this respect, for 
his literary fame, if the same friendly and skilful hand 
which has illustrated and adorned his geological re- 
searches, would undertake the task of guiding us through 
the puzzling, but interesting labyrinth of his metaphy- 
sical discussions. 

The following is the conclusion of Dr. Huttoli's argu 
ment concerning hardness and incompressibility: 

" In thus distinguishing things, it will appear, that m^ 
*' compressibility and hardness, i. e, powers resisting the 
" change of volume and figure, are the properties of an 
** external body; and that these are the essential qualities 
" of that extended, figured thing, so far as it is only in 
'' these resisting powers that the conceived thing, termed 
" bodi/, is judged to subsist. 

"But these properties of body, or those powers, are 
" not found to be absolute; so far as a hard body may be 
'* either broken or made soft, and so far as, by compres- 
" sion, a body may be diminished in its volume. 

" Hence, the judgment that has been formed from the 
"^ resistance of the external thing, is, in some measure, to 
" be changed; and that first opinion, with regard to appa- 
"rent permanency, which might have been formed from 
^' the resistance of the perceived thing, must now yield to 



118 ON THE IDEALISM OF Berkeley: [Essay 1L 

" the positive testimony of the sense, whereby the body 
'' is perceived to be actually diminished. That powder of 
" resistance therefore, from whence a state of permanency 
'^ had been concluded, is now found to be overcome; and 
^* those apparent properties of the body are, with all the 
^' certainty of human observation, known to be changed. 

" But if the resistance, which is opposed by a natural 
" body to the exertion of our will, endeavouring to des- 
" troy the volume, should be as perfectly overcome, as 
'^ is that of hardness in fluidity, then the common opinion 
" of mankind, which supposes the extension of a body to 
^^ be permanent, would necessarily be changed. For, at 
'^ present, we think that this resisting power, which 
" preserves volume in bodies, is absolutely in its nature 
" insurmountable, as it certainly is in relation to our 
'' moving power. 

" Instead then of saying, that matter, of which natural 
" bodies are composed, is perfectly hard and impenetra- 
" ble, which is the received opinion of philosophers, we 
'' would affirm, that there is no permanent property of this 
^' kind in a material thing, but that there are certain resist- 
'' ingpowers inbodies,by which their volumes and figures 
*' are presented to us in the actual information; which 
'' powers, however, might be overcome. In that case, the 
*' extension of the most solid body would be considered 
^' only as a conditional thing, like the hardness of a body of 
'' ice; which hardness is, in the aqueous state of that body, 
" perfectly destroyed."* 

All this coincides perfectly with the opinions of Bosco- 
vich; and it must, I think, appear conclusive to every per- 

* Dissertations on different subjects in Natural Philosophy, pp. 
2SD, and 290. 



Chap. I.J ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY 119 

son who reflects on the subject with due attention. Nor 
is there any thing in the doctrine it maintains, repugnant 
to the natural apprehensions of the mind; or requiring3 
for its comprehension, habits of metaphysical refinement. 
Indeed it amounts to nothing more than to the following 
incontestable rernark which was long before made by 
Berkeley; ** that both hardness and resistance" (which 
words he considers as perfectly synonymous with soli- 
dity) " are plainly relative to our senses; it being evi- 
" dent, that what seems hard to one animal, may appear 
" soft to another, who hath greater force and firmness of 
'' limbs."^ 

The case, however, is very different, when we find Dr. 
Berkeley and Dr. Hutton attempting to place extension 
and figure on the same footing with hardness and resis- 
tance. The former of these writers, seems to have con- 
sidered the ideal existence of extension as still more mani- 
fest than that of solidity; having employed the first of 
these propositions, as a medium of proof for the establish- 
ment of the other. '* If extension be once acknowledged 
*' to have no existence without the mind, the same 
*' must necessarily be granted of motion, solidity, and 
" gravity, since they all evidently suppose extension. It is 
'* therefore superfluous to inquire particularly concerning 
" each of them. In denying extension, you have denied 
" them all to have any real existence."! 

That Dr Mutton's opinion concerning magnitude and 
figure coincided exactly with that of Berkeley, appears 
not only from the general scope of his Theory of Percep 

* Berkeley's Works.— Dublin, 1784, p. 133, Vol, L 
tVol. Lp. 133, 



120 6*N THE IDEALISM OF BEIiKELEY. [Essay if. 

tions; but from the account which he himself has given 
of the various particulars by which he conceived that the- 
ory to be discriminated from the Berkeleian system. *' It 
" may now" (says he) *' be proper to observe, that the 
'' theory here given of perception, although at first sight 
'* it may be thought similar to that of Dr. Berkeley, will 
^* be found to differ from it, both in its nature and in its 
^' operation upon science; although the conclusion, that 
'* magnitude and figure do not exist externally in relation 
'* to the mind, follows naturally as a consequence ofbothJ^'* 

*' It is indeed" (he continues) " a necessary conse- 
'' quence of both theories, that magnitude and figure do 
" not exist in nature, or subsist externally, but that these 
*' are purely spiritual, or ideas in the mind: This, how- 
^^ ever, is the only point in which the two theories agree. "^"^^ 

It would be altogether foreign to my present purpose 
to attempt to follow the very ingenious author through 
the elaborate exposition which he has given of the charac- 
teristical peculiarities of his own doctrine. I have studied 
it with all the attention in my power; but without being 
able fully to comprehend its meaning. As far as I can 
judge, the obscurity which hangs over it arises, in a great 
measure, from a mistaken connection which Dr. Hutton 
had supposed between his own physical conclusions con- 
cerning hardness, or relative incompressibility, and Berke- 
ley's metaphysical argument against the independent ex- 
istence of things external. How clearly this distinction was 
seized by Boscovich, is demonstrated by a passage already 
quoted: And accordingly, it may be remarked, that, not- 
withstanding the numerous objections which have been 

■^ HuUon*s Principles of Knowledge, Vol. I. p. 357. 

2 



Chap. I.] ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 121 

made to the validity of his reasonings, none of his critics 
have refused him the praise of the most luminous perspi- 
cuity. 

The truth is, that, while the conclusions of Boscovich 
and of Hutton, with respect to matter^ so far as hardness, 
or relative incompressibilijty is concerned, offer no vio- 
lence to the common judgments of mankind, but only 
aim at a more correct and scientific statement of the fact 
than is apt to occur to our first hasty apprehensions, — 
the assertion of Berkeley, that extension and figure have 
merely an ideal or (as Dr. Hutton calls it) a spiritual ex- 
istence, tends to unhinge the whole frame of the human 
understanding, by shaking our confidence in those prin- 
ciples of belief which form an essential part of its consti- 
tution. But on this point I shall have an opportunity of 
explaining myself more fully, in the course of some ob- 
servations which I propose to offer on the philosophy of 
Dr. Reid. 



Q 



122 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay ii. 



CHAPTER SECOND. 
SECTION FIRST. 

On the foundation of our belief of the existence of the material world, accord- 
ing" to the statement of Reid. — ^Strictures on that statement. 

1 HAVE already said, diat Reid's account of the exist- 
ence of matter, although correct so far as it goes, does 
not embrace all the circumstances of the question. The 
grounds of this observation I shall endeavour to explain 
with all possible brevity: but before proceeding to the 
discussion, it is necessary for me to premise some re- 
marks on a principle of our constitution, which may at 
first sight appear very foreign to the present argument; I 
mean, our belief of the permanence or stability of the order 
of nature. 

That all our physical reasonings, and all those observa- 
tions on the course of events, which lay the foundation of 
foresight or sagacity^ imply an expectation, that the order 
of things will, in time to come, continue similar to what 
we have experienced it to be in time past, is a fact too 
obvious to stand in need of illustration; but it is not equally 
clear, how this expectation arises at first in the mind. 
Mr. Hume resolves it into the association of ideas ^ which 
leads us, after having seen two events often conjoined, to 
{Anticipate the second, whenever we see the first; — a theory 
to which a very strong objection immediately presents 
itself, That a single experiment is sufficient to create as 



Cliap. 11.3 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 123 

Strong a belief of the constancy of the result as ten thou- 
sand. When a philosopher repeats an experiment for the 
sake of greater certainty, his hesitation does not proceed 
from any doubt, that, in the same circumstances, the same 
phenomena will be exhibited; but from an apprehension, 
that he may not have attended duly to all the different 
circumstances in which the first experiment was made. 
If the second experiment should differ in its result from 
the first, he will not suspect that any change has taken 
place in the laws of nature; but will instantly conclude, 
that the circumstances attending the two experiments 
have not been exactly the same. 

It will be said, perhaps, that although our belief in this 
instance is not founded on a repetition of one single ex- 
periment, it is founded on a long course of experience ^ 
with respect to the order of nature in general. We have 
learned, from a number of cases formerly examined, that 
this order continues uniform; and we apply this deduction 
as a rule to guide our anticipations of the result of every 
new experiment that we make. This opinion is support- 
ed by Dr. Campbell in his Philosophy of Rhetoric; but 
it seems to me to afford a very unsatisfactory solution 
of the difficulty. It plainly differs essentially from Mr, 
Hume's theory; for it states the fact in such a manner, as 
excludes the possibility of accounting for it by the asso- 
ciation of ideas; while, at the same time, it suggests no 
other principle, by means of which any plausible expla- 
nation of it may be obtained. Granting, at present, for 
the sake of argument, that after having seen a stone often i^ 
fall, the associating principle alone might lead me to ex- 
pect a similar event, when I drop another stone; the ques- 
tion still recurs, (supposing my experience to have been 



124 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay IL 

hitherto Hmited to the descent of heavy bodies) — Whence 
arises my anticipation of the result of a pneumatical, an 
optical, or a chemical experiment? According, therefore, 
to Campbell's doctrine, we must here employ a process 
of analogical reasoning. The course of nature has been 
found uniform in all our experiments concerning heavy 
bodies; and therefore we may conclude, by analogy, that 
it will also be uniform in all other experiments we may 
devise, whatever bo the class of phenomena to which 
they may relate. It is difficult to suppose, that such a pro- 
cess of reasoning should occur to children or savages; 
and yet I apprehend, that a child who had once burned 
his finger with a candle, would dread the same result, if 
the same operation were to be repeated. Nor, indeed, 
would the case be different, in similar circumstances, 
with one of the lower animals. 

In support of his own conclusion on this subject. Dr. 
Campbell asserts,* '' that experience, or the tendency of 
" the mind to associate ideas under the notion of causes 
** and effects, is never contracted by one example only." 
He admits, at the same time, that in consequence of the 
analogical reasoning which I mentioned, natural philoso- 
phers consider a single experiment, accurately made, as 
decisive with respect to a theory. It is evident that, upon 
this supposition, children, and the vulgar, must see tw© 
events often conjoined, before they apprehend the relation 
of cause and effect to subsist between them; whereas the 
truth is, that persons of little experience are always prone 
to apprehend a constant connection, even when they sec 
a merely accidental conjunction. So firmly are they per- 

*No. i.p. 137. 



Chap. 11.3 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 125 

suaded, that every change requires a cause, and so eager 
to discover it, that they lay hold of the event immediately 
preceding it, as something on which they may rest their 
curiosity; and it is experience alone that corrects this dis- 
position, by teaching them caution in investigating the 
general laws which form a part of the order of the uni- 
verse. * 

From these observations, it seems to follow, that our 
expectation of the continuance of the laws of nature is 
not the result of the association of ideas, nor of any other 
principle generated by experience alone; and Mr. Hume 
has shown, with demonstrative evidence, that it cannot 

* The account which is given in the Encijclofiazdia Britannica of 
the conclusiveness of a single experiment in proof of a general law 
of nature is, at bottom, the very same with the theory of Campbell; 

and therefore a separate consideration of it is unnecessary This 

will appear evident from the following extract. 

"Experimental philosophy seems, at first sight, in direct op- 
^' position to the procedure of nature in forming general laws." (The 
expression here is somewhat ambiguous; but the author plainly 
means,— in opposition to the natural procedure of the mind, in the 
investigation of general laws.) " These are formed by induction 
" from multitudes of individual facts, and must be affirmed to no 
" greater extent than the induction on which they are founded. Yet 
« it is a matter of fact, a physical law of human thought, that one 
« simple, clear, and unequivocal experiment, gives us the most 
" complete confidence in the truth of a general conclusion from it 
" to every similar case. Whence this anomaly? It is not an anomaly, 
" or contradiction of the general maxim of philosophical investiga- 
" tion, but ^he most refined application of it. There is no law more 
" general than this, that 'nature is constant in all her operations.' 
'' The judicious and simple form of our experiment insures us (we 
" imagine) in the complete knowledge of all the circumstances of the 
*< event. Upon this supposition, and this alone, we consider the ex- 
" periment as the faithful representative of every possible case of 
"the conjunction." — (Article Philosophy, § 57. See also (in the 
same volume) article Physics, § 103.) 



126 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay U. 

be resolved into any process of reasoning a priori. Till, 
therefore, some more satisfactory analysis of it shall ap- 
pear than has yet been proposed, we are unavoidably led 
to state it as an original law of human belief. In doing so, 
I am not influenced by any wish to multiply unnecessarily 
original laws or ultimate truths; nor by any apprehension 
of the consequences that might result from an admission 
of any one of the theories in question. They are all of 
them, so far as I can see, equally harmless in their ten- 
dency; but all of them equally unfounded and nugatory, 
answering no purpose whatever, but to draw a veil over 
ignorance, and to divert the attention, by the parade of a 
theoretical phraseology, from a plain and most important 
fact in the constitution of the mind. 

In treating of a very different subject, I had occasion j 
in a former work,* to refer to some philosophical opinions 
of Mr. Turgot, coinciding nearly with those which I have 
now stated. These opinions are detailed by the author, at 
considerable length, in the article Existence of the French 
Encyclopedic; but a conciser and clearer account of them 
may be found in Condorcet's discourse, prefixed to his 
essay " On the application of analysis to the probability 
" of decisions pronounced by a majority of votes." From 
this account it appears, that Turgot resolved " our belief 
'* of the existence of the material world" into our belief 
of the continuance of *' the laws of nature;" or, in other 
words, that he conceived our belief, in the former of these 
instances, to amount merely to a conviction of the es- 
tablished order of physical events; and to an expectation 
that, in the same combination of circumstances, the same 

* Philosophy of the Human Mind, chap. iv. sect 5 . 



Chap. 11] ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 127 

event will recur. It has always appeared to me, that some- 
thing of this sort was necessary to complete Dr. Reid's 
speculations on the Berkeleian controversy; for although 
he has shown our notions concerning the primary quali- 
ties of bodies to be connected, by an original law of our 
constitution, with the sensations which they excite in our 
minds, he has taken no notice of the grounds of our be- 
lief that these qualities have an existence independent of 
our perceptions. This belief (as I have elsewhere observ- 
ed*) is plainly the result of experiefice; inasmuch as a 
repetition of the perceptive act must have been prior to 
any judgment, on our part, with respect to the separate 
and permanent reality of its object. Nor does experience 
itself afford a complete solution of the problem; for, as 
we are irresistibly led by our perceptions to ascribe to 
their objects a future as well as a present reality, the 
question still remains, how are we determined by the ex- 
perience of the past^ to carry our inference forward to a 
portion of time which is yet to come? To myself the dif- 
ficulty appears to resolve itself, in the simplest and most 
philosophical manner, into that law of our constitution to 
which Turgot, long ago, attempted to trace it. 

If this conclusion be admitted, our conviction of the 
permanent and independent existence of matter is but a 
particular case of a more general law of belief extending 
to all other phenomena. The generalization seems to me 
to be equally ingenious and just; and while it coincides 
perfectly in its spirit and tendency with Reid's doctrine 
on the same point, to render that doctrine at once more 
precise and more luminous. 

* Philosophy of the Human Mind, chap. iii. 



128 ©N THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay 11. 

Nor is this view of the subject altogether a novelty in 
the history of science; any farther, than as it aims at a 
simple and literal statement of the fact ^ without prejudg- 
ing any of the other questions, either physical or meta- 
physical, which may arise out of it. The same doctrine 
is obviously involved in the physical theory of Boscovich, 
as well as in some of the metaphysical reveries of Male- 
branche and of Leibnitz. The last of these writers has, 
indeed, expressed it very clearly and concisely in one of 
his letters, where he observes to his correspondent: " Les 
" choses materielles en elles-meme ne sont que des phe- 
" nomenes bien regies."* The creed, said to be so pre- 
valent among the Hindoos, with respect to the nature of 
matter^ would seem to be grafted on a conception nearly 
similar. If we may rely on the account given of it by Sir 
William Jones, it has not the most distant affinity, in its 
origin or tendency, to the system of idealism as it is now 
commonly understood in this part of the world; the for- 
mer taking its rise from a high theological speculation; the 
latter being deduced as a sceptical consequence from a 
particular hypothesis concerning the origin of our know- 
ledge, inculcated by the schoolmen, and adopted by Locke 
and his followers. '' The difficulties" (Sir William tells 
us, with great clearness and precision) " attending the 

* The same mode of speakinjj has been adopted by some more 
modern authors; among others, by the late very ingenious and learn- 
ed Mr. Robison, in his Elements of Mechanical Philosophy, " To 
us,'* (he observes) ^^ matter is a mere fihcnomenon.*^ (§ 118.) Leib- 
nitz was, I think, the first person by whom it was introduced; but 
in the writings of Mr. Robison, wherever it occurs, it may be safely 
interpreted as referring to the physical theory of Boscovich, to which 
he had a strong and avowed leaning; although he was not blind to 
the various difficulties connected with it. 



CJtap. II.] ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 129 

" vulgar notion of material substances, induced many of 
** the wisest among the ancients, and some of the most 
** enlightened among the moderns, as well as the Hindoo 
"philosophers, to believe that the whole creation was 
" rather an energy than a work, by which the infinite mind, 
*' who is present at all times, and in all places, exhibits to 
*' his creatures a set of perceptions like a wonderful pic- 
" ture, or piece of music, always varied, yet always uni- 
" form."* 

In another passage, the same author observes, that " the 
" Vedantis^ unable to form a distinct idea of brute matter 
" independent of mind, or to conceive that the work of 
*' supreme goodness was left a moment to itself, imagine 
" that the Deity is ever present to his work, and constantly 
•* supports a series of perceptions, which in one sense 
*' they call illusory, though they cannot but admit the re- 
'' ality of all created forms, as far as the happiness of 
^^ creatures can be affected by them,'^''\ 

*' The word may a," (we are afterwards informed) " or 
** delusion has a subtle and recondite sense in the Vedanta 
" philosophy, where it signifies the system q{ perceptions^ 
" whether of secondary, or of primary qualities, which the 
" Deity was believed, by Epicharmus^ Flato^ and many 
" truly pious men, to raise, by his omnipresent spirit, 
*' in the minds of his creatures; but which had not, in 
" their opinion, any existence independent of mind. "J 

* Introduction to a translation of some Hindoo verses. 

t Dissertation on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India. 

% Ibid. The last clause of this sentence is somewhat ambieuous; 
as it is not quite manifest, whether the author meant an existence 
independent of the sufireme mind^ or of the minds of created fierci' 
fiient beings. Neither the one opinion nor the other appears to me 

R 



130 ox THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay IL 

The essential difference between these doctrines, and 
those which Hume has shown to be necessarily in- 
volved in the common account oi the origin of our know- 
ledge^ must appear obyious to all who have any acquain- 
tance with his wTitings. The Hindoo system represents 
the material universe, as, at all times, in a state of imme- 
diate dependence on the divine energy; — coinciding, in 
this respect, with the opinions of those pious men in our 
own quarter of the globe, who have supposed its con- 
tinued existence to be the effect of a creative act renewed 
every moment; but admitting, in the most explicit terms, 
the regularity of the laws according to which its pheno- 
mena are exhibited to our senses, and the reality of these 
phenomena as permanent objects of science. The scepti- 
cism of Hume, on the contrary, proceeds entirely on a 
scholastic hypothesis concerning perception, which, when 
followed out to its logical consequences, leaves no evi- 
dence for the existence, either of the divine mind, or of 
any other; nor, indeed, for that of any thing whatever, 
but of our own impressions and ideas. 

The fault of the Hindoo philosophy, as well as of the 
systems of Leibnitz and of Malebranche, is, that it pro- 
nounces dogmatically on a mystery placed beyond the 
reach of our faculties; professing to describe the mode in 
which the intellectual and material worlds are connected 
together, and to solve the inexplicable problem (as Bacon 
has justly called it) with respect to the opus quod operatur 
Dens a principio usque ad Jinem, In the present state of 
our knowledge, it is equally absurd to reason for it or 

to be reconcileable with the doctrines, either of Epicharmus or of 
Plato. (Vide Bruckeri Hist, de Ideis, p. 9. Augustae Vindelicorum? 
1723.) 



Ghap.IL] ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 131 

against it; but thus much must be allowed in its favour, 
that while, in its moral tendency, it is diametrically oppo- 
site to that of the theory with which it has sometimes been 
classed, it explicitly recognizes the consistency and 
certainty of those principles of belief on which mankind 
proceed in the ordinary business of life, as well as in all 
their physical inquiries concerning the order of nature. 

The statement, on the other hand, given by Turgot, 
possesses this advantage peculiar to itself, that it de^ 
scribes the simple fact with scientific precision; involve 
ing no metaphysical theory whatever, any more than 
Newton's statement of the law of gravitation. In both 
cases, premises are furnished for a most important con- 
elusion in natural theology; but that conclusion is as for- 
eign to our researches concerning the physical laws of our 
perceptions, as it would have been to Newton's purpose, 
to have blended it with the physical and mathematical in- 
quiries which are contained in his Prmcipia, 

Nor let any one imagine that this statement has the 
slightest tendency to detract from the reality of external 
objects. It rests our evidence for this realit?/, on the very 
same footing with what we possess for the regularity and 
permanence of those physical laws which furnish the most 
interesting, as well as most stable objects of human know- 
ledge; and, even when combined with the theological 
hypothesis of the Hindoos, only varies our ordinary mode 
of conception, by keeping constantly in view the perpetual 
dependence of the universe, in its matter as well as in its 
form^ on the hand of the Creator. 

I must again repeat, with respect to this statement of 
Turgot, that it differs from that of Reid, merely in resolv= 
ing our belief of the permanent and independent existence 



132 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essaj IL 

of matter into another law of our nature still more gene- 
ral; and of this law it is worthy of observation, that its 
authority has not only been repeatedly recognized by Reid, 
but that he has laid much more stress on its importance 
than any preceding writer. According to the statements 
of both, this belief is assumed as an ultimate fact m the 
constitution of the mind; and the trifling difference in their 
language concerning it, (considering that neither could 
have borrowed the slightest hint from the other) adds no 
inconsiderable weight to their joint conclusions. 

To this natural belief, common to all mankind (a belief 
which evidently is altogether independent of any exercise 
of our reasoning powers), Reid, as well as some other 
Scottish philosophers, have applied the epithet instinctive; 
not with the view of conveying any new theory concern- 
ing its origin, but merely to exclude the unsatisfactory 
theories of their predecessors. For this supposed innova- 
tion in language, they have been severely censured and ri- 
diculed by a late celebrated Polemic; but the strictures 
which, in this instance, he has bestowed on them, will be 
found to apply to them, in common with the most cor- 
rect reasoners in every part of modern Europe. Of this I 
have already produced one instance, in a quotation from 
the works of a very learned and profound Italian;* and 
another authority to the same purpose is furnished by 
D'Alembert, a writer scrupulously cautious in his selec- 
tion of words. The following passage agrees so exactly 
with Rcid's philosophy, in point of doctrine as well as of 
phraseology, that the coincidence can be accounted for 
only by the anxious fidelity with which both authors have, 
on this occasion, exemplified the precepts of the inductive 
hmc, 

o 

* See p. 1 15 of this volume. 



Chap. II.J ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 133 

" The truth is, that as no relation whatever can be dis- 
" covered between a sensation in the mind, and the ob- 
"ject by which it is occasioned, or at least to which we 
'' refer it, it does not appear possible to trace, by dint of 
" reasoning, any practicable passage from the one to the 
" other. Nothing but a species of instinct^ more sure in 
" its operation than reason itself, could so forcibly trans- 
" port us across the gulf by which mind seems to be sepa- 
" rated from :he material world."* 

" in every science" (the same author elsewhere ob- 
serves) " there are principles true, or supposed, which the 
" mind seizes by a species of instinct. To this instinct 
" we ought to yield without resistance; otherwise, by re- 
" cognizing the existence of a series of principles with- 
" out end, and abandoning the possibility of any fixed 
" points for the commencement of our reasonings, we 
" must plunge ourselves into universal scepticism."! 

* En effet, n'y ayant aucun rapport entre chaque sensation, et Toh- 
jet qui I'occasionne, ou du moins auquel nous la rapportons, il ne 
paroit pas qu*on puisse trouver par le raisonnement de passage pos- 
sible de Tun a I'autre: il n'y a qu'une espece d'instinct, plus sur que 
la raison meme, qui puisse nous forcer a franchir un si grand inter- 
valle. — (^Dis c ours fire liminaire de V Encyclopedie?) 

In the last clause of the sentence, I have departed a little from the 
words of the original; but I flatter myself, that I have rendered my 
author's meaning with sufficient exactness. 

t II est dans chaque science des principes vrais ou supposes, qu'on 
saisit par une esp6ce d'instinct auquel on doit s'abandonner sans re- 
sistance; autrement il faudroit admettre dans les principes un pro- 
gres a I'infini qui seroit aussi absurde qti'un progres a I'infini dans 
les etres et dans les causes, et qui rendroit tout incertain, faute d'un 
point fixe d'ou Ton put partir.— (£/e?«e72s de Philosophie, Art. Me- 
taphysique.) 

In the alternative stated in the first clause of this sentence, {dcs 
princifies vrais ou sufifioses) I presume that D'Alembert had in view 
the distinction between those sciences which rest ultimately on facts; 



134 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay II. 

The inference which I draw from these quotations is, 
not that the word instinct is employed in them with un- 
exceptionable propriety, but that, in applying it to charac- 
terize certain judgments of the mind, the philosophers 
who have been so contemptuously treated on that account 
by Dr. Priestley, have not departed from the practice of 
their predecessors. They alone who have studied with 
care the science of human nature, can be fully sensible 
how difficult it is, on the one hand, for the clearest and 
most cautious thinkers, to describe its phenomena in de- 
finite and unequivocal terms; and how easy it is, on the 
other, for the most superficial critic to cavil, with plausi- 
bility, at the best phraseology which language can afford. 
Nor has a philosopher, in this branch of knowledge, the 
privilege, as in some others, of introducing new terms of 
his own invention, without incurring the charge of absurd 
and mysterious affectation. He must, of necessity, perse- 
vere in employing terms of a popular origin; or, in other 
words, in employing an instrument made by the most rude 
and unskilful hands, to a purpose where the utmost con- 
ceivable nicety is indispensably requisite. 

The number of such criticisms, I am inclined to sus- 
pect, would be considerably diminished, if every cavil at 
an obnoxious word were to be accompanied with the sug- 
gestion of a less exceptionable substitute. In the mean 
time, it is the fault of those who devote themselves 
to this study, if they do not profit by these criticisms 
where they have the slightest foundation in justice, by ap- 
proximating more and more to that correctness and uni- 
formity in the use of language, towards which so great 

and the different branches of pure mathematics which rest ultimately 
on dcjinitions^ or hyfiotheses. 



Chap. II.3 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 135 

advances have been made in our own times; but which, 
after all our efforts, we must content ourselves with re- 
commending to the persevering industry of our succes- 
sors, as the most essential of all desiderata for insuring the 
success of their researches. Till this great end be, in some 
measure, accomplished, we must limit our ambition to 
the approbation of the discerning few; recollecting, (if I 
may borrow the words of Mr. Burke,) that our conclu- 
sions are not fitted *' to abide the test of a captious con- 
" troversy, but of a sober and even forgiving examination; 
" that they are not armed, at all points, for battle, but 
'' dressed to visit those who are willing to give a peaceful 
^* entrance to truth."* 

* See Note (I). 



f 

136 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay II. 

SECTION SECOND. 

Continuation of the subject— Indistinctness of the line drawn by Reid, as well 
as by Des Cartes and Locke, between the prhnary and the secondary qualities 
of matter. — Distinction between the primary qualities of matter, and its 
mathematical affections. 

1 HAVE yet another criticism to offer on Dr. Reid's rea- 
sonings with respect to perception; — a criticism not found- 
ed upon any flaw in his argument, but upon his inatten- 
tion, in enumerating tht primary qualities of matter^ to a 
very essential distinction among the particulars compre- 
hended in his list; by stating which distinction, he might, 
in my opinion, have rendered his conclusions much more 
clear and satisfactory. 

Into this oversight. Dr. Reid was very naturally led by 
the common arrangement of his immediate predecessors; 
most of whom, since the time of Locke, have classed to- 
gether, under the general title of primary qualities, hard- 
ness, softness, roughness, smoothness, &c. with extensioriy 
figure, and motion,'^ In this classification he has invaria- 
bly followed them, both in his inquiry into the human 
Mind, and in his Essays on the Intellectual Powers; a 
circumstance the more remarkable, that he has incidentally 
stated, in different parts of his works, some very important 
considerations, which seem to point out obviously the 
necessity of a more strictly logical arrangement. 

* According to Locke, the primary qualities of matter are solidity, 
extension, figure, motion, or rest, and number. — (Book ii. chap. viii. 
§ 9.) — In the Theory of Berkeley, the word solidity is employed as 
synonymous with hardness and resistance. (Berkeley's Works, p, 133. 
Vol. I. Dublin edition of 1784.) Following these guides, Reid has 
been led to comprehend, in his enumeration (very inadvertently in 
my opinion) the heterogeneous qualities specified in the text. 

2 



Chap. II.] ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 137 

After observing, on one occasion, that ** hardness and 
" softness, roughness and smoothness, figure and motion, 
^' do all suppose extension, and cannot be conceived w^ith- 
*' out it;" he adds, that '' he thinks it must, on the other 
** hand, be allowed, that if we had never felt any thing 
*' hard or soft, rough or smooth, figured or moved, we 
** should never have had a conception of extension: so 
" that, as there is good ground to believe that the notion of 
" extension could not be prior to that of other primary 
*' qualities; so it is certahi that it could not be posterior 
" to the notion of any of them, being necessarily implied 
" in them all."^ 

In another passage, the same author remarks, that 
" though the notion of space seems not to enter at first 
*' into the mind, until it is introduced by the proper ob- 
" jects of sense; yet, being once introduced, it remains in 
" our conception and belief, though the objects which 
** introduced it be removed. We see no absurdity in 
" supposing a body to be annihilated; but the space that 
" contained it rem ins; and to suppose that annihilated, 
" seems to be absurd. "f 

Among the various inconveniences resulting from this 
indistinct enumeration of primary qualities^ one of the 
greatest has been, the plausibility which it has lent to the 
reasonings of Berkeley, and of Hume, against the exis- 
tence of an external world. Solidity and extension being 
confounded together by both, under one common deno- 
mination, it seemed to be a fair inference, that whatever 
can be shown to be true of the one, must hold no less 
when applied to the other. That their conclusions, even 
with respect to solidity, have been pushed a great deal too 

* Inquiry, chap. v. sect. 5. 

t Essays on the Int. Powers, p. 262. 4to edition. 

s 



138 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay IL 

far, I have already endeavoured to show; the resistance 
opposed to our compressing force, manifestly implying 
the existence of something exter?ial^ and altogether inde- 
pendent of our perceptions: — but still there is a wide dif- 
ference between the notion of independent existence, and 
that ascribed to extension or space^ which, as Dr. Reid 
observes, carries along with it an irresistible conviction, 
that its existence is eternal and necessary; equally inca- 
pable of being created or annihilated. The same remark 
may be applied to the system of Dr. Hutton, who plainly 
considered extension and hardness as qualities of the 
same order; and who, in consequence of this, has been 
led to blend (without any advantage whatever to the 
main object of his work) the metaphysics of Berkeley 
with the physics of Boscovich, so as to cast an additional 
obscurity over the systems of both. It is this circum- 
stance that will be found, on examination, to be the prin- 
cipal stumbling-block in the Berkeleian theory, and which 
distinguishes it from that of the Hindoos, and from all 
others commonly classed along with it by metaphysicians; 
that it involves the annihilation of space as an external ex- 
istence; thereby unhinging completely the natural con- 
ceptions of the mind with respect to a truth, about which, 
of all within the reach of our faculties, we seem to be the 
most completely ascertained; and which, accordingly, was 
selected by Newton and Clarke, as the groundwork of 
their argument for the necessary existence of God.* 

*This species of sophistry, founded on an indistinctness of classi- 
fication, occurs frequently in Berkeley's writings. It is thus that, 
by confounding primary and secondary qualities under one common 
name, he attempts to extend to both, the conclusions of Des Cartes 
and Locke with respect to the latter. « To what purpose is it" (he 



Chap. IL] ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 139 

I am always unwilling to attempt innovations in lan- 
guage; but I flatter myself it will not be considered as a rash 
or superfluous one, after the remarks now made, if I dis- 
tinguish extension and figure by the title of the mathema- 
tical affections of matter;"^ restricting the phrase primary 
qualities to hardness and softness, roughness and smooth- 
ness, and other properties of the same description. The 
line which I would draw between primary and secondary 
qualities is this; that the former necessarily involve the 
notion of extension^ and consequently of externality or 
outness;\ whereas the latter are only conceived as the un- 
known causes of known sensations; and, when first ap- 

asks) " to dilate on that which may be demonstrated with the utmost 
" evidence in a line or two, to any one that is capable of the least re- 
" flection? It is but looking into your own thoughts, and so trying 
" whether you can conceive it possible for a sound, or figure, or 
" motion, or colour^ to exist without the mind, or unperceived. This 
" easy trial may make you see, that what you contend for is a down- 
« right contradiction. Insomuch, that I am content to put the whole 
*' on this issue; if you can but conceive it possible for one extended 
^-^ moveable substance^ or, in general, for any one idea, or any thing 
" like an idea, to exist otherwise than in a mind perceiving it, I shall 
" readily give up the cause." (Principles of Human Knowledge, 
section xxii.) 

The confusion of thought which runs through the foregoing pas- 
sage was early remarked by Baxter, in his Inquiry into the nature of 
the Human Soul. In the Jirst sentence, he observes, that ^^Jigure 
"and motion are nicely shuffled in with colour and sound, though 
" they are qualities of a different kind;" and, in the last, that " ex- 
" tended moveable substance is supposed to be a species of ideas''--^ 
*' in which case" (he adds) " Dr. Berkeley is very safe in his argu- 
'' ment." (Vol. II. p. 276. 3d edit.) 

* This phrase I borrow from some of the elementary treatises of 
natural philosophy. 

t The word outness, which has been of late revived by some of 
Kant's admirers in this country, was long ago used by Berkeley in 
his Principles of Human Knowledge, (sect xliii.); and, at a still ear- 
lier period of his life, in his Essay towards a new theorv of Vision ~ 



140 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay IL 

prehended by the mind^ do not imply the existence of any- 
thing locally distinct from the subjects of its own consci- 
ousness. But these topics I must content myself with 
merely hinting at, on the present occasion.^ 

If these observations be well-founded, they establish 
three very important facts in the history of the human 
mind. 1. That the notion of the mathematical affections of 
matter presupposes the exercise of our external senses; 
inasmuch as it is suggested to us by the same sensations 
which convey to us the knowledge of iX.^ primary qualities. 

2. That this notion involves an irresistible conviction, on 
our part, not only of the external existence of its objects, 
but of their necessary and eternal existence; whereas, in the 
case of the primary qualities of matter, our perceptions are 
only accompanied with a belief, that these qualities exist 
externally, and independently of our existence as perci- 
pient beings; the supposition of their annihilation by the 
power of the Creator, implying no absurdity whatsoever. 

3. That our conviction of the necessary existence of ex- 
tension, or space, is neither the result of reasoning nor of 
experience, but is inseparable from the very conception 
of it; and must therefore be considered as an ultimate and 
essential law of human thought. 

The very same conclusion, it is manifest, applies to the 
notion of time; a notion which, like that of space, presup- 

(sect. xlvi.) I mention this, as I have more than once heard the term 
spoken of as a fortunate innovation. 

* For Locke's distinction between primary and secondary quali- 
ties, see his Essay, Book ii. chap. iii. § 9. Of its logical accuracy 
son^e judgment may be formed from its influence in leading so very 
acute an inquirer to class nuinber in the same list with solidity and 
extension. The reader will find some additional illustrations on the 
subject of secondary qualities in note (K). 



Chap. II. j ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 141 

poses the exercise of our external senses; but which, when 
it is once acquired, presents irresistibly its object to our 
thoughts as an existence equally independent of the hu- 
man mind, and of the material universe. Both these exis- 
tences, too, swell in the human understanding to infinity; 
the one to immensity, the other to eternity; nor is it pos- 
sible for imagination itself to conceive a limit to either. 
How are these facts to be reconciled with that philosophy 
which teaches, that all our knowledge is derived from ex- 
perience? 

The foregoing reasonings have led us, by a very short, 
and, I hope, satisfactory process, to the general conclu- 
sion which forms the fundamental principle of the Kan- 
tian system; a system plainly suggested to the author, by# 
the impossibility he found of tracing any resemblance be- 
tween extension and the sensations of which we are con- 
scious. *' The notion (or intuition) o^space^^ (he tells us) 
*' as well as that of time, is not empirical; that is, it has 
" not its origin in experience. On the contrary, both 
" these notions are supposed, or implied, as conditions in 
" all our empirical perceptions; inasmuch as we cannot 
" perceive nor conceive an external object, without re- 
" presenting it to our thoughts as in space; nor can we 
" conceive any thing, either without us or within us, 
" without representing it to ourselves, as in time. Space 
" and time, therefore, are called, by Kant, the two Jbrms 
" of our sensibility. The first is the general form of our 
*' external senses: the second, the general form of all our 
" senses, external and internal. 

" These notions of space and of time, however, al- 
^' though they exist in us a priori, are not" (according 
to Kant) " innate ideas. If they are anterior to the per- 



142 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. [Essay II 

*' ceptions of our senses, it is only in the order of reason, 
'* and not in the order of time. They have indeed their 
" origin in ourselves; but they present themselves to the 
" understanding only inconsequence of occasions furnish- 
** ed by our sensations; or (in Kant's language) by our 
" sensible modifications. Separated from these modifica- 
*' tions, they could not exist; and, without them, they 
'^^ would have remained for ever latent and sterile,"* 

* De Gerando. Hist, des Systemes, Tom. II. p. 208, 209. It is 
proper for me to observe here, that, for the litcle I know of Kant's 
philosophy, I am chiefly indebted to his critics and commentators; 
more particularly, to M. De Gerando, who is allowed, even by Kant's 
countrymen, to have given a faithful exposition of his doctrines; and 
to the author of a book published at Copenhagen, in 1796, entitled, 
PhilosofihicR Critics Secundum Kantium Exfiositio Systematica, Some 
very valuable strictures on the general spirit of his system may be 
collected from the appendix subjoined by Mr. Prevost to his French 
translation of Mr. Smith's posthumous Essays; from diff'erent pas- 
sages of the Essais Philosofihicjues of the same author; and from the 
first article in the second number of the Edinburgh Review. 

As to Kant's own works, I must fairly acknowledge, that, although 
1 have frequently attempted to read them in the Latin edition printed 
at Leipsic, I have always been forced to abandon the undertaking in 
despair; partly from the scholastic barbarism of the style, and partly 
from my utter inability to unriddle the author's meaning. Wherever 
I have happened to obtain a momentary glimpse of light, I have de- 
rived it, not from Kant himself, but from my previous acquaintance 
with those opinions of Leibnitz, Berkeley, Hume, Reid, and others, 
which he has endeavoured to appropriate to himself under the deep 
disguise of his new phraseology. No writer certainly ever exempli- 
fied more systematically, or more successfully, the precept which 
Quinclilian (upon the authority of Livy) ascribes to an ancient rheto- 
rician; and which, if the object of the teacher was merely to instruct 
his pupils how to command the admiration of the multitude, must 
be allowed to reflect no small honour on his knowledge of human 
nature. "Neque id novum vitium est, cum jamapud Titum Livium 
" inveniam fuisse praeceptorem aliquem, qui discipulos obscurare 
*' quae dicerent, juberent, Graeco verbo utens rrx,orKroy. Unde ilia sci- 
" licet egregia laudatio: Tanto melior^ ne ego quidem intellexiJ'^ 
CQuinct. Instit.) 

E7l 



Chap. 11.3 ON THE IDEALISM OF BERKELEY. 14S 

The only important proposition which I am able to ex- 
tract from this jargon is, that, as extension and duration 
cannot be supposed to bear the most distant resemblance 
to any sensations of which the mind is conscious, the ori 
gin of these notions forms a manifest exception to the ac- 
count given by Locke of the primary sources of our 
knowledge. This is precisely the ground on which Reid 
has made his stand against the scheme of Idealism; and 
I leave it to my readers to judge, whether it was not 
more philosophical to state, as he has done, the fact, in 
simple and perspicuous terms, as a demonstration of the 
imperfection of Locke's theory, than to have reared upon 
it a superstructure of technical mystery, similar to what 
is exhibited in the system of the German metaphysician. 

In justice, at the same time, to Kant's merits, I must 
repeat, that Dr. Reid would have improved greatly the 
statement of his argument against Berkeley, if he had 
kept as constantly in the view of his readers, as Kant has 
done, the essential distinction which I have endeavoured 
to point out between the mathematical affections of mat- 
ter, and its primary qualities. Of this distinction he ap- 
pears to have been fully aware himself, from a passage 
which I formerly quoted; but he has, in general, slurred 
it over in a manner which seemed to imply, that he con- 
sidered them both as precisely of the same kind. 

I shall only add farther, that the idea or conception of 
motion involves the ideas both of extension and of time. 

En ecrivant, fai toujours taclie de m'' entendre^ is an expression 
which Fontenelle somewhere uses, in speaking of his own literary 
habits. It conveys a hint not unworthy of the attention of authors; 
— but which I would not venture to recomraend to that class who 
may aspire to the glory of founding new schools of philosophy. 



144 ON THE IDEALIsk OF BERKELEY. [Essay IL 

That the idea of time might have been formed, without 
any ideas either of extension or of motion^ is sufficiently 
obvious; but it is by no means equally clear, whether the 
idea of motion presupposes that of extension, or that of 
extension the idea of motion. The question relates to a 
fact of some curiosity in the natural history of the mind; 
having, for its object, to ascertain, with logical precision, 
the occasion on which the idea of extension is, in the first 
instance, acquired. But it is a question altogether foreign 
to the subject of the foregoing discussion. Whichever of 
the two conclusions we may adopt, the force of Reid's 
argument against Locke's principle will be found to re- 
main undiminished.* 

* See Note (L). 



ESSAY THIRD. 

ON THE INFLUENCE OF LOCKE'S AUTHORITY UPON 
THE PHILOSOPHICAL SYSTEMS WHICH PREVAILED 
IN FRANCE DURING THE LATTER PART OF THE 
IlIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 

1 HE account given by Locke of the origin of our ideas, 
which furnished the chief subject of one of the foregoing 
Essays, has, for many years past, been adopted impHcitly, 
and almost universally, as a fundamental and unquestion- 
able truth, by the philosophers of France. It was early 
sanctioned in that country, by the authority of Fontenelle, 
whose mind was probably prepared for its reception, by 
some similar discussions in the works of Gassendi; at a 
later period, it acquired much additional celebrity, from 
the vague and exaggerated encomiums of Voltaire; and 
it has since been assumed, as the common basis of their 
respective conclusions concerning the history of the hu- 
man understanding, by Condillac, Turgot, Helvetius, Di= 
derot, D'Alembert, Condorcet, Destutt- Tracy, De Ge^ 
rando, and many other writers of the highest reputation, 
at complete variance with each other, in the general spirit 
of their philosophical systems.* 

* Tous les philosophes Francois de ce siecle ont fait gloire de se 
ranger au nombre des disciples de Locke, et d'admettre ses prin- 
cipes. — (-De GeraiidG, de (a Generation des Connoissances Hiimaines^, 
p. 81.) 

T 



146 ON THE INFLUENCE 01?: LOCKE UPON [Essay IIL 

But although ail these ingenious men have laid hold 
eagerly of this common principle of reasoning, and have 
vied with each other in extolling Locke for the sagacity 
which he has displayed in unfolding it, hardly two of them 
can be named who have understood it exactly in the same 
sense; and perhaps not one who has understood it precise- 
ly in the sense annexed to it by the author. What is still 
more remarkable, the praise of Locke has been loudest 
from those who seem to have taken the least pains to as- 
certain the import of his conclusions. 

The mistakes so prevalent among the French philoso- 
phers on this fundamental question, may be accounted 
for, in a great measure, by the implicit confidence which 
they have reposed in CondiJlac, (whom a late author* has 
distinguished by the title oi the Father of Ideology) , as a 
faithful expounder of Locke's doctrines; and by the weight 
which Locke's authority has thus lent to the glosses and 
inferences of his ingenious disciple. In the introduction 
to Condillac's Essay on the Origin of Human Knowledge, 
after remarking, that " a philosopher often announces the 
'' truth, without being aware of it himself;" he adds, that 
" it seems to have been, by some accident of this sort, 
" that the Peripatetics were led to assume, as a principle, 
^' that all our knowledge comes by the senses: — aprinci- 
**ple uhich they were so far from comprehending, that 
" none of them was able to unfold it in detail; and which 
'' it was reserved for the moderns to bring to light, after 
** a long succession of ages. " 

'' Bacon" (the same author continues) ^* was perhaps 
*' the first who perceived it; having made it the ground- 

* Destutt-Tracy. 



Essay IH.] THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 147 

'* work of a treatise, in which he gives excellent precepts 
" for the advancement of the sciences. The Cartesians 
" rejected it with contempt, because they formed their 
"judgment of it only upon the statement given by the 
" Peripatetics. At last, Locke laid hold of it, and has the 
" merit of being the first by whom its truth was demon- 
"strated." 

Of the meaning which Condillac annexed to this dis- 
covery of Locke^, a sufficient estimate may be formed from 
the following sentence: " According to the system which 
" derives all our knowledge from the senses, nothing is 
" more easy than to form a precise notion of what is meant 
" by the word idea. Our ideas are only scnsatiojis, or por- 
" tions abstracted irora some sensation, in order to be con- 
" sidered apart. Hence two sorts of ideas, the sensible^ and 
'* the abstract, ^''^ On other occasions, he tells us, that 
" all the operations of the understanding are only trans- 
'''' formed sensations ;\ and that the faculty o^ feeling com- 
" prehends all the other powers of the mind." I must 
acknowledge, for my own part, (with a very profound 
writer of the same country) " that these figurative ex- 
" pressions do not present to me any clear conceptions, 
" but, on the contrary, tend to involve Locke's principle 
" in much additional obscurity. "J 

To how very great a degree this vague language of 
Condillac has influenced the speculations of his successors, 
will appear from some passages Avhich I am now to pro- 

* Traite des Systemes, p. 68. 

t Le jugement, la reflexion, les desirs, les passions, Sec. ne sont 
que la sensation meme qui se transforme differemment. — (Traite 
des Sensations, p. 4.) 

X De Gerando, de la Generation des Connoissances Humaines, p 
78. 



148 ON THE INFLUENCE OF LOCKE UPON [Essay itL 

duce; and which, in my opinion, will sufficiently shew 
through what channel the French philosophers have, 
in general, acquired their information, with respect to 
Locke's doctrine concerning the origin of our ideas.* 

" When Aristotle" (says Helvetius) " affirmed, nihil est 
" in intellectu quod non fuit pr'ius in sensu^ he certainly did 
*' not attach to this maxim the same meaning with Locke. 
" In the Greek philosopher, it was nothing more than the 

* In justice to some individuals, I must observe here, that the 
vagueness of Condillac's language, in this instance, has been re- 
marked by several of his own countrymen. " Trompe par la nou- 
" veaute d'une expression qui paroit avoir pour lui un charrae secret, 
" renfermant toutes les operations de I'esprit sous le titre commun 
** de sensation transformee, Condillac croit avoir rendre aux faits 
" une simplicite qu'il n'a placee que dans les termes." In a note on 
this passage, the same author adds, " Cette observation a ete faite 
*' par M. Prevost, dans les notes de son memoire sur les signes; par 
" M. Maine-Biran, dans son Traite de l" Habitude, Sec. Cet abus des 
" termes est si sensible, qu'on s'etonne de I'avoir vu renouvele de- 
" puis, par des ecrivains tres-eclaires.** De Gerando Histoire Com- 
paree. Sec. Tome I. pp. 345, 346. 

The work of M. Maine-Biran here referred to, is entitled, "Influ- 
" ence de THabitude sur la faculte de penser. Ouvrage qui a rem- 
^' porte le prix sur cette question proposee par la classe des sciences 
" morales et politiques de ITnstitut National: Determiner quelle est 
*' Vinjiuence de V habitude sur la. faculte de jienser; ou, en d'autres 
*' tcrmes, faire voir Veffet que produit sur chacune de nos facultes 
" intellectuelles^ lafrenuente repetition des memes operations.^'' 

Although I differ from this author in many of his views, I ac- 
knowledge, with pleasure, the instruction I have received from his 
ingenious Essay. — For his criticism on Condillac's Theory of Trans- 
formed Sensations, see pp. 31 and 52 of the Traite de I* Habitude. 

To prevent any ambiguities that may be occasioned by the general 
title of French Philosophers, it is necessary for me to mention, that 
I use it in its most restricted sense; without comprehending under 
it the writers on the Human Mind, who have issued from the school 
of Geneva, or who have belonged to other parts of Europe, where 
the French language is commonly employed by men of learning, in 
their publications. 



Essay in.] THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 149 

" glimpse of a future discovery, the honour of which be- 
*' longs to the Englishman alone."* 

What was the interpretation annexed by Helvetius him- 
self to Locke's doctrine on this point, appears clearly from 
the corollary which he deduced from it, and which he has 
employed so many pages in illustrating; '' that every thing 
** in man resolves ultimately into sensation or the operation 
" offeelingy This, therefore, is the whole amount of the 
discovery which Helvetius considered as the exclusive 
glory of Locke. 

*' It is to Aristotle we owe" (says Condorcet) '* that im- 
'' portant truth, the first step in the science of mind, that 
** our ideas, even such as are most abstractj most strictly 
" intellectual, (so to speak) have their origin in our sen- 
'' sations. But this truth he did not attempt to support 
" by any demonstration. It was rather the intuitive per- 
*' ception of a man of genius, than the result of a series 

*" Lorsqu' Aiistote adit, nihil est in intellectu^ &c. il n'attachoit 
" certainement pas a cette axiome les meme idees que M. Locke. 
" Cette idee n*etoit tout au plus, dans le philosophe Grec, que i'ap-> 
" percevance d'une decouverte a faire, et dont Thonneur appartient 
" en entier au philosophe Anglois." (De TEsprit, disc, iv.) 

It is observed by Dr. Gillies, in his very valuable Analysis of Aris- 
totle's Works, that " he nowhere finds, in that author, the ivords 
" universally ascribed to him^ nihil est in intellectu,'' Sec. He quotes, 
at the same time, from Aristotle, the following maxim, which seems 
to convey the same meaning, almost as explicitly as it is possible to 
do, in a different language: sv t«<$ it^iTi zoig xk!-3-yjtoi(; tu. vorijet itm. 
(Gillies's Arist. 2d edition, Vol. I. p. 47.) I must remark here, that 
the clause, which I have distinguished by italics^ in the above quota- 
tion from Dr. Gillies, is somewhat too unqualified, at least when ap-^ 
plied to the writers of this country. Mr. Harris (whose Hermes hap- 
pens now to be lying before me) mentions explicitly the phrase in 
question, as a noted school axiom. (Harris's Works, Vol. I. p. 419.) 
Nor do I at present recollect any one author of reputation who has 
considered it in a different light. 



150 ON THE INFLUENCE OF LOCKE UPON [Essay IIL 

" of observations accurately analysed, and systematically 
" combined, in order to derive from them some general 
*' conclusion. Accordingly, this germ, cast in an ungrate- 
** fill soil, produced no fruit, till after a period of more 
" than twenty centuries.* 

" At length, Locke made himself master of the proper 
*' clue. He shewed, that a precise and accurate analysis 
" of ideas, resolving them into other ideas, earlier in their 
" origin, and more simple in their composition, was the 
*' only means to avoid being lost in a chaos of notions, in- 
" complete, incoherent, and indeterminate; destitute of 
^* order, because suggested by accident; and admitted 
" among the materials of our knowledge without due 
" examination. 

" He proved by this analysis, that the whole circle of 
" our ideas results merely from the operation of our in- 
" tellect upon the sensations we have received; or more 
'' accurately speaking, that all our ideas are compounded of 
" sensations^ offering themselves simultaneously to the 
'* memory, and after such a manner, that the attention is 
" fixed, and the perception limited to a particular collec- 
" tion, or portion of the sensations combined."! 

The language, in this extract, is so extremely vague 
and loose, that I should have been puzzled in my con- 
jectures about its exact import, had it not been for one 
clause, in which the author states, with an affectation of 
more than common accuracy, as the general result of 
Locke's discussions, this short and simple proposition, 

* Outlines of Historic. View, See. Eng. Trans, pp. 107, !0S. 

t Ibid. pp. 240, and 241. — Not having the original in my posses- 
sion, I have transcribed the above passage very nenrly from the Eng- 
lish Translation, published at London in 1795. 



Essay III. J THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 151 

that all our ideas are compounded of sensations. The clause 
immediately preceding these words, and of which they 
are introduced as an explanation, or rather as an amend- 
ment, certainly seems, at first sight, to have been intend^ 
ed to convey a meaning very different from this, and a 
meaning not liable, in my opinion, to the same weighty 
objections. But, neither the one interpretation nor the 
other, can possibly be reconciled with Locke's 'doctrine, 
as elucidated by himself in the particular arguments to 
which he applies it, in various parts of his Essay. 

I shall only add to these passages a short quotation from 
Diderot^ who has taken more pains than most French 
writers, to explain, in a manner perfectly distinct and un- 
equivocal, his own real opinion with respect to the origin 
and the extent of human knowledge. 

" Every idea must necessarily, when brought to its state 
** of ultimate decomposition, resolve itself into a sensible 
" representation, or picture; and, since every thing in our 
" understanding has been introduced there by the chan- 
" nel of sensation, whatever proceeds out of the under- 
" standing, is either chimerical, or must be able, in return- 
" ing by the same road, to re-attach itself to its sensible 
"archetype. Hence an important rule in philosophy; That 
" every expression which cannot find an external and a 
" sensible object to which it can thus establish its afiinity, 
" is destitute of signification."* 

* Toute idee doit se resoudre en derniere decomposition en une 
representation sensible, et puisque tout ce qui est dans notre entende- 
ment est venu par la voie de notre sensation, tout ce qui sort de 
notre enten dement est chimerique, ou doit, en retournant par le 
memo chemin, trouver, hors de nous, un objet sensible pour s'y ratta- 
cher. De la une grande regie en phiIosophie,c*est que toute expression 



152 ON THE INFLUENCE OF LOCKE UPON [Essay III., 

When we compare this conclusion of Diderot's with 
the innate ideas of Des Cartes, the transition from one 
extreme to the other seems wonderful indeed. And yet 
I am inclined to ascribe to the lateness of the period when 
Locke's philosophy became prevalent in France, the ex- 
travagance of the length to w^hich his doctrines have since 
been pushed by some French writers. The implicit faith 
which was so long attached by their immediate predeces- 
sors to the Cartesian system, naturally prepared the way 
for the sudden and blind admission of a contrary error: 
so just is the remark of a candid and judicious inquirer, 
that " the first step from a complete ignorance of a phi- 
** losophical principle, is a disposition to carry its gene- 
*' ralization beyond all reasonable bounds."* 

qui ne troiive pas //or* de nous un objet sensible auquel elle puisse se 
rattacher, est vuide de sens. — {Oeuvres de Diderot^ Tom._VI.) 

In this philosophical rule^ Diderot goes much farther than Mr. 
Hume, in consequence of the different interpretation which he has 
given to Locke's principle. In other respects, the passage now quo- 
ted bears, in its spirit, a striking resemblance to the reference which 
Hume has made, in the following argument, to his own account of 
the origin of our ideas ^ as furnishing an incontrovertible canon of 
sound logic, for distinguishing the legitimate objects of human know- 
ledge, from the illusions of fancy and of prejudice. " One event fol- 
" lows another; but we never can observe any tie between them. 
" They seem conjoined^ but never connected. And, as we can have 
^' no idea of any thing which never appeared to our outward sense, 
" or inward sentiment, the necessary conclusion seems to be, that 
" we have no idea of connexion, or power, at all; and that these 
« words are absolutely without any meaning, when employed either 
" in philosophical reasonings or common life." — (Of the Idea of Ne- 
cessary Connexion, Part ii.) 

* Rien n'est plus voisin de I'ignorance d'un principe, que son ex- 
cessive generalisation. — (Z)*? Gerando^ Introduct. p. xx.) 

To this maxim I would beg leave to subjoin another, that " no 
" step is more natural or common, than to pass all at once frt)m an 
" implicit faith in a philosophical dogma, to an unqualified rejection 

2 



Essajr^Iir.] THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 153 

It is remarked by D'Alembert, as a curious circum- 
stance in the literary character of his countrymen, that, 
though singularly fond of novelty in matters of taste, they 
have always shewn themselves, in the pursuits of science, 
extremely bigoted to old opinions. " These two biasses," 
(he adds) *' apparently so strongly contrasted with each 
** other, have their common origin in various causes, and 
* chiefly in that passion for enjoyment, which seems to 
*' be the characteristical feature in our minds. Objects 
** which are addressed immediately to feeling or senti- 
*' ment, cannot continue long in request, for they cease to 
** be agreeable, when the effect ceases to be instantaneous. 
" The ardour beside, with which we abandon ourselves 
*' to the pursuit of them, is soon exhausted; and the mind 
** disgusted, almost as soon as satisfied, flies to something 
** new, which it will quickly abandon for a similar reason. 
*' The understanding, on the contrary, is furnished with 
** knowledge, only in consequence of patient meditation; 
*' and is therefore desirous to prolong, as much as possi- 
" ble, the enjoyment of whatever information it conceives 
" itself to have acquired." 

In illustration of this remark, he mentions the obstinate 
adherence of the French philosophers to the scholastic doc^ 
trines; which they did not abandon till the period when 
the succeeding school, which first triumphed over the dog- 
mas of Aristotle, had, in several of the other countries of 
Europe, shared the fate of its predecessor. *' The theory 
*' of the Vortices" (he observes) " was not adopted in 
** France, till it had received a complete refutation by 

" of it, with all the truths, as well as errors, which it embraces." — 
The fault, in both cases, arises from a weak and slavish subjection 
of the judgment to the authority of others. 

u 



154 ON THE INFLUENCE OF LOCKE UPON [Essay IIL 

" Newton. It is not yet thirty years" (he adds) " since 
••' we began to renounce the system of Des Cartes. Mau- 
'* pertuis was the first person who had the courage 
'^ openly to avow himself a Newtonian."* 

As a farther confirmation of D'Alembert's observation, 
I must take the liberty to add, (at the risk, perhaps, of 
incurring the charge of national partiality) that, on most 
questions connected with the philosophy of the human 
mind, his countrymen are, at least, half a century behind 
the writers of this island, f While Locke's account of the 
origin of our ideas continued to be the general creed in 
Great Britain, it was almost unknown in France; and now 
that, after long discussion, it begins, among our best rea- 
soners, to shrink into its proper dimensions, it is pushed, 
in that country, to an extreme, which hardly any British 
philosopher of the smallest note ever dreamed of. In con- 
sequence of the writings of Reid, and of a few others, the 
word idea itself is universally regarded here, even by 
those who do not acquiesce implicitly in Reid's conclu- 
sions, as at the best a suspicious and dangerous term; 
and it has already- nearly lost its technical or Cartesian 
meaning, by being identified as a synonyme with the 
simpler and more popular word notion. Our neighbours, 
in the mean time, have made choice of the term ideology ^ 
(a Greek compound, involving the very word we have 

* Melanges, 8cc. tom. I. p. 149. (Amsterdam edition, 1770.) This 
Discourse was first published in 1751. 

1 1 need scarcely add that, in this observation, I speak of the gen- 
eral current oif philosophical opinion, and not of the conclusions 
adopted by the speculative few who think for themselves. On many 
important points, every candid Englishman who studies the history 
of this branch of science, will own, with gratitude, the obligations we 
owe to the lights struck out by Condillac and his successors. 



Essay ML] THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 155 

been attempting to discard) to express that department of 
knowledge, which had been previously called the science 
of the human mind; and of which they themselves are 
always reminding us, that it is the great object to trace, 
in the way of induction^ the intellectual phenomena to 
their general laws. It is a circumstance somewhat ludi- 
crous, that, in selecting a new name for this branch of 
study, an appellation should have been pitched upon, 
which seems to take for granted, in its etymological im- 
port, the truth of a hypothesis, which has not only been 
completely exploded for more than fifty years, but which 
has been shewn to be the prolific parent of half the ab- 
surdities both of ancient and modern metaphysicians.* 
Among the French philosophers above mentioned, 
there is one whom I ought, perhaps, to have taken an 
earlier opportunity of separating from the rest, on account 
of the uncommon union displayed in his writings, of 
learning, liberality, and philosophical depth. To those 
who have read his works, it is scarcely necessary for me 
to add the name of De Gerando; an author, between 
whose general views and my own, I have been peculiarly 
flattered to remark a striking coincidence; and whose 
dissent from some of the conclusions which I have en- 
deavoured to establish, I would willingly believe, is ow- 

* We are told by one of the most acute and original partizans 
of this new nomenclature, that Ideology is a branch of Zoology; 
" having, for its object, to examine the intellectual faculties of man, 
" and of other animals." The classification, I must own, appears to 
myself not a little extraordinary; but my only reason for objecting to 
it here is, that it is obviously intended to prepare the way for an 
assumption, which at once levels man with the brutes, without the 
slightest discussion. " Penser^ c*est toujours sentir^ et ce n'est ?'ie?i 
" que 5e?2^zr."— Elem. d'Ideologie, parL. C. Destutt-lracy, Senateur, 
Paris, 1804. 



156 ON THE INFLUENCE OF LOCKE UPON [EsBay III. 

ing more to the imperfect statement I have yet given of 
my opinions, than to the unsoundness of the arguments 
which led me to adopt them. In the present instance, at 
least, his opinion seems to me to be, at bottom, nearly, if 
not exactly, the same with that which I proposed in my 
first volume; and yet a careless reader would be apt to class 
us with two sects diametrically opposed to each other. 

" All the systems which can possibly be imagined, 
" with respect to the generation of our ideas, may be re- 
*' duced," (according to M. De Gerando^) " as to their 
^"^ fundamental principle ^ to this simple alternative: either 
*' all our ideas have their origin in impressions made on our 
" senses^ or there are ideas which have not their origin in 
" such impressions; and which, of consequence, are placed 
" in the mind immediately, belonging to it as a part of its 
*' nature or essence, 

" Thus, the opinions of philosophers, whether ancient 
" or modern, concerning the generation of our ideas, ar- 
^* range themselves in two opposite columns; the one 
" comprehending the systems which adopt for a princi- 
" pie, 7iihil est in intellectu quin priusfuerit in sensu; the 
" other, the systems which admit the existence of innate 
'•^ ideas, or of ideas inherent in the understanding." 

That M. De Gerando himself did not consider this 
classification as altogether unexceptionable, appears from 
the paragraph immediately following; in which he re- 
marks, that, "among the philosophers who have adopted 
" these contradictory opinions, ihere are several, appa- 
" rently attached to the same systems, who have not adopt- 

* That I may do no injustice to M. Dc Gerando, by any misap- 
prehension of his meaning on so nice a question, I have quoted the 
original in note (M). 



Essay III.] THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 157 

" ed them from the same motives; or who have not ex- 
" plained them in the same manner; or who have not 
" deduced from them the same consequences." Nothing 
can be juster or better expressed than this observation; 
and I have only to regret, that it did not lead the very in- 
genious and candid writer to specify, in the outset of his 
work, the precise import of the various systems here al- 
luded to. Had he done so, he could not have failed to 
have instantly perceived, that, while some of the opinions 
which he has classed under one common denomination, 
agree with each other merely in language, and are com- 
pletely hostile in substance and spirit; others which, agree- 
ably to his principle of distribution, must be considered 
as disputing between them the exclusive possession of the 
philosophical field, differ, in fact, chiefly in phraseology; 
while, on every point connected with the foundations of 
a sound and enlightened logic, they are perfectly agreed. 

If, in endeavouring to supply this omission in my 
friend's treatise, I should be successful in establishing the 
justness of the criticism which I have hazarded on some 
of his historical statements, the conclusion resulting from 
my argument will, I am confident, be not less acceptable 
to him than to me, by shewing, not only how very nearly 
we are agreed on this fundamental article of our favour- 
ite science, but that the case has been similar with many 
of our predecessors, who little suspected that the differ- 
ence between the tenets, for which they contended so 
zealously, was little more than nominal. 

Without entering into a nice discrimination of systems, 
evidently the same in their nature and tendency, and dis- 
tinguished only by some accessory peculiarities, (such, for 
example, as the respective doctrines of Des Cartes and 



156 ON THE INFLUENCE OF LOCKE UPON [Essay III. 

Malebranche concerning innate ideas) it appears to me, 
that the most noted opinions of modern philosophers, 
with respect to the origin of our knowledge, may be re- 
ferred to one or other of the followins^ heads. 

1. The opinion of those who hold the doctrine of innate 
ideas, in the sense in which it was understood by Des 
Cartes and Malebranche; that is, as implying the existence 
in the mind, oi objects of thought distinct from the mind it- 
self; coeval with it as an essential part of its intellectual 
furniture; and altogether independent of any information 
collected from without. Of this description (according to 
the Cartesians) are the ideas of God, of existence, of 
thought, and many others, which, though clearly appre- 
hended by the understanding, bear no resemblance to any 
sensation: and which, of consequence, they concluded 
must have been implanted in the mind, at the moment of 
its first formation. 

It is against the hypothesis of innate ideas, thus inter- 
preted, and which, in the present times, scarcely seems to 
us to have ever merited a serious refutation, that Locke 
directs the greater part of his reasonings in the beginning 
of his Essay. 

In England, for many years past, this doctrine has sunk 
into complete oblivion, excepting as a monument of the 
follies of the learned; but we have the authority of De 
Gerando to assure us, that it was taught in the schools of 
France till towards the very conclusion of the last cen- 
tury.* Perhaps this circumstance may help to account for 

* L'idee de Dieu, celle de Vexistence^ celle de \2ipensee, disent ils,. 
ne ressemblent a aucune sensation. Ccpendant elles sont clairement 
dans I'esprit: il faut done qu'elles viennent d'une autre source que 
des sens, et par consequent, qu*elles soient filacees immediatement 



Essay III.] THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 159 

the disposition which so 'many French philosophers have 
shewn, in later times, to reject, indiscriminately, every 
principle which they conceived to have the most remote 
connection with that absurd hypothesis. 

2. The opinion of Locke^ in the sense in which it w^as 
understood, not only by himself, but by Berkeley and 
Hume, and indeed (with a very few exceptions) by all 
the most eminent philosophers of England, from the pub- 
lication of the Essay on the Human Understanding, till 
that of Reid's Inquiry into the mind. This opinion leads, 
(as has been already observed) by a short and demonstra- 
tive process of reasoning, to Berkeley's conclusion with 
respect to the ideal existence of the material world, and 
to the universal scepticism of Hume. 

3. The opinion of Locke ^ as interpreted by Diderot; — 
m which sense it leads obviously to an extravagance dia- 
metrically opposite to that of Berkeley, — the scheme of 
materialism. — Nor does it lead merely to materialism^ as 
that scheme has been explained hj some of its more cau- 
tious adv ocates. It involves, as a necessary consequence, 
(according to the avowal of Diderot himself) the total re- 
jection, from the book of human knowledge, of every 
word which does not present a notion copied, like a pic- 
ture or image, from some archetype among the objects 
of external perception. 

4. The opinion or rather the statement of Locke, modi- 
fied and limited by such a comment as I have attempted 
in the fourth section of the first chapter of the Philosophy 

dans notre ame. Ces ofunions ont ete^ presque jusqu^a la Jin du der- 
rder siecle^ enseignees dans Ics ecolss de France, — De la Generation 
des Connoissances Humaines, p. 62, (a Berlin, 1802.) 

This fact affords an additional confirmation of a remark formerly- 
quoted from D'AIembert, see p. 153, of this rolume. 



160 ON THE INFLUENCE OF LOCKE UPON [Essay IH. 

of the Human Mind. The substance of that comment, I 
must beg leave once more to remind my readers, amounts 
to the following general proposition: 

All our simple notions, or, in other words, all the pri- 
mary elements of our knowledge, are either presented to 
the mind immediately by the powers of consciousness and 
of perception,* or they are gradually unfolded in the exer- 
cise of the various faculties which characterize the human 
understanding. According to this view of the subject, 
the sum total of our knowledge may undoubtedly be said to 
originate in sensation, inasmuch as it is by impressions 
from without, that consciousness is first awakened, and 
the different faculties of the understanding put in action; 
but that this enunciation of the fact is, from its concise- 
ness and vagueness, liable to the grossest misconstruction, 
appears sufficiently from the interpretation given to it by 
Locke's French commentators, and more particularly by 
Diderot, in the passage quoted from his works in a for- 
mer part of this Essay. 

It must appear obvious to every person who has read, 
with due attention, M. De Gerando's memoir, that it is 
precisely in the qualified sense which I have attached to 
Locke's words, that he all along defends them so zeal- 
ously; and yet I am strongly inclined to consider Locke's 
words, when thus interpreted, as far more widely removed 
from the opinion of Diderot, than from the antiquated 
theory of innate ideas. Perhaps I might even venture to 
say, that were the ambiguous and obnoxious epithet in- 
nate laid aside, and all the absurdities discarded, which 
are connected, either with the Platonic, with the Scholas- 
Uc, or with the Cartesian hypothesis, concerning the na- 

* See Note (N). 



Essay III] THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 161 

lure of ideas, this last theory would agree, m substance, 
with the conclusion which I have been attempting to 
establish by an induction of facts. For my own part, at 
least, I must acknowledge that, in the passages formerly 
quoted from Cudworth, Leibnitz, and Harris,* there 
are only a few peculiarities of hypothetical phraseology 
to which I am able to oppose any valid objection. The 
statements contained in them exhibit the whole truth blen- 
ded with a portion of fiction; whereas, that to which they 
stand opposed, not only falls short of the truth, but is 
contradicted by many of the most obvious and incontro- 
vertible phenomena of the understanding. 

On this, as on many other occasions, I have had much 
pleasure in recalling to recollection an observation of Leib- 
nitz. *^ Truth is more generally diffused in the world than 
*' is commonly imagined; but it is too often disguised, 
" and even corrupted, by an alloy of error, which con- 
*' ceals it from notice, or impairs its utility. By detect- 
" ing it w^herever it is to be found, among the rubbish 
*' which our predecessors have left behind them, we have 
" not only the advantage resulting from the enlargement 
" of our knowledge, but the satisfaction of substituting, 
** instead of a succession of apparently discordant sys- 
" tems, a permanent and eternal philosophy fperennem 
" quandam philosophiamj, — varying widely in its forms 
" from age to age, yet never failing to exhibit a portion 
*^ of truth, as its immutable basis." 

The mistakes into which modern philosophers have 
fallen, on the important question now under our review, 
may, I think, be traced to a rash extension, or rather, to 
a total misapplication of Bacon's maxim, that all okt 

* See p. 90, et seq. 

X 



162 ON THE INFLUENCE OF LOCKE UPON [Essay III. 

knowledge is derived from experience* It is with this 
maxim, that Locke prefaces his theory concerning sensa- 
tion and reflection, and it is from that preface that M. 
De Gerando borrows the motto of his own speculations 
upon the origin of our ideas, " Let us suppose" (says 
Locke) '' the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of 
** all characters, without any ideas; how comes it to be 
*' furnished? Whence comes it by that vast store which 
*' the busy and boundless fancy of man has painted on it, 
" with an almost endless variety? Whence has it all the 
" materials of reason and knowledge? To this I answer, 
" in a word, from experience. In that all our knowledge 
*' is founded, and from that it ultimately derives itself."* 
In what sense this celebrated maxim ought to be under- 
stood, I shall endeavour to shew^ more particularly, if I 
should live to execute a plan which I have long meditated, 
of analysing the logical processes by which we are con- 
ducted to the different classes of truths, and of tracing the 
different kinds of evidence to their respective sources in 
our intellectual frame. For my present purpose, it is suffi- 
cient to observe, in general, that however universally the 
maxim ma}^ be supposed to apply to our knowledge of 
facts, whether relating to external nature, or to our own 
minds, we must, nevertheless, presuppose the existence of 
some intellectual capacities or powers in that being by 

* It is a circumstance somewhat curious in Locke's Essay, that 
in no part of it are the works of Bacon quoted, or even his name 
mentioned. In taking notice of this, I do not mean to insinuate, 
that he has been indebted to Bacon for ideas which he was unwilling 
to acknowledge. On the contrary, I think that the value of his 
Essay would have been still greater than it is, if he had been better 
acquainted with Bacon's writings. The chief sources of Locke's 
philosophy, where he does not give scope to his own powerful and 
original genius, are to be found in Gassendi and Hobbes. 



Essay IIL] THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 163 

whom this knowledge is to be acquired; powers which are 
necessarily accompanied, in their exercise, with various 
simple notions, and various ultimate laws of belief, for 
which experience is altogether incompetent to account. 
How is it possible, for example, to explain, upon this 
principle alone, by any metaphysical refinement, the ope- 
rations of that reason which observes these phenomena; 
which records the past; which looks forward to the future; 
which argues synthetically from things known, to others 
which it has no opportunity of subjecting to the exami- 
nation of the senses; and which has created a vast science 
of demonstrative truths, presupposing no knowledge 
whatever but of its own definitions and axioms? To say 
that, even in this science, the ideas of extension, o^ figure, 
and of quantity, are originally acquired by our external 
senses, is a childish play upon words, quite foreign to the 
point at issue. Is there any one principle from which Eu- 
clid deduces a single consequence, the evidence of which 
rests upon experience, in the sense in which that word is 
employed in the inductive logic? If there were, geometry 
would be no longer a demonstrative science. 

Nor is this all. The truths in mathematics (admitting 
that of the hypotheses on which our reasonings proceed) 
are eternal and necessary; and, consequently, (as was ear- 
ly remarked, in opposition to Locke's doctrine) could ne- 
ver have been inferred from experience alone. '' If Locke" 
(says Leibnitz) " had sufficiently considered the difference 
" between truths which are necessary or demonstrative, 
*' and those which we infer from induction alone, he would 
** have perceived, that necessary truths could only be 
" proved from principles which command our assent by 
** their intuitive evidence; inasmuch as our senses can in 



1 64 ON THE INFLUENCiE OF LOCKE UPON [Essay in. 

^^ form us only of what is, not of what must necessarily 

But, even with respect \o facts, there are certain limi- 
tations with which this maxim must be received. Whence 
arises our belief of the continuance of the laws of nature? 
Whence our inferences from the past to the future^ Not 
surely from experience alone. Although, therefore, it 
should be granted, as I readily do, that in reasoning con- 
cerning the yi/^wr^, we are entitled to assume no fact as a 
datum which is not verified by the experience of the past, 
(which, by the way, is the sole amount of Bacon^s aphor- 
ism), the question still remains, what is the origin of our 
confide t behef, xh^x past events may be safely assumed 
as signs of those which are yet to happen? The case is pre- 
cisely the same with the faith we repose in human testi- 
mony; nor would it be at all altered, if, in the course of 
our past experience, that testimony had not once deceived 
us. Even, on that supposition, the question would still 
recur, whence is it we conclude, that it will not deceive 
us in future? or (what comes nearly to the same thing) 
that we give any credit to the narratives of men who ex- 
isted two thousand years ago? No proposition, surely, can 
be more evident than this, that experience, in the accep- 
tation in which Locke and his followers profess to under- 
stand it, can inform us of nothing but what has actually 
fallen under the retrospect of memory. — Of the truth and 

* Si Lockius discrimen inter veritates necessarias sen demonstra- 
tione perceptas, et eas quae nobis sola inductione utcunque innotes- 
ciint, satis considerasset,- — animadvertisset, necessarias non posse 
comprobari, nisi ex principiis menti insitis; cum sensus quidem do- 
ceant quid fiat, sed non quid necessario fiat. — Tom. V. p. 358. (Edit. 
Dutens.) 



Essay III.] THE SYSTEMS OF FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS. 165 

importance of these considerations, no philosopher seems 
to have been fully aware, previous to Mr. Hume. " As to 
** past experience," (he observes) ** it can be allowed to 
" give direct and certain information of those precise ob- 
" jects only, and that precise period of time, which fell 
" under its cognizance; but why this experience should 
** be extended to future times, and to other objects, — this 
" is the main question on which I would insist."* What 
is the proper answer to this question is of no moment to 
our present argument. It is sufficient, if it be granted, that 
experience alone does not afford an adequate explanation 
of the fact. 

In concluding this essay, it may not be altogether use- 
less to remark the opposite errors which the professed 
followers of Bacon have committed, in studying the phe- 
nomena of matter, and those of mind. In the former, where 
Bacon's maxim seems to hold without any limitation, they 
have frequently shewn a disposition to stop short in its 
application; and to consider certain physical laws (such 
as the relation between the forqe of gravitation, and the 
distance of the gravitating bodies), as necessary truths, 
or truths which admitted of a proof, a priori; while, on 
the other hand, in the science of mind, where the same 
principle, when carried beyond certain limits, involves a 
manifest absurdity, they have attempted to extend it, 
without one single exception, to all the primary elements 
of our knowledge, and even to the generation of those 
reasoning faculties which form the characteristical attri- 
butes of our species. 

* See Hume's essay entitled Sceptical Doubts, See, 



ESSAY FOURTH. 

ON THE METAPHYSICAL THEORIES OF HARTLEY, 
PRIESTLEY, AND DARWIN. 

W HEN I hinted, in the preceding essay, that the doc- 
trines prevalent in this country, with respect to the origin 
of our knowledge, were, in general, more precise and just 
than those adopted by the disciples of Condillac, I was 
aware that some remarkable exceptions might be alleged 
to the universality of my observations. Of those, indeed, 
who, in either part of the united kingdom, have confined 
their researches to the Philosophy of the Human Mind, 
properly so called, I do not recollect any individual of 
much literary eminence, who has carried Locke's prin- 
ciple to such an extravagant length as Diderot and Hel- 
vetius; but, from that class of our authors, who have, of 
late years, been attempting to found a new school, by 
jumbling together scholastic metaphysics and hypothetical 
physiology, various instances might be produced of the- 
orists, whose avowed opinions on this elementary ques- 
tion, not only rival, but far surpass that of the French 
Materialists, in point of absurdity. 

Among the authors just alluded to, the most noted are 
Hartley, Priestley and Darwin; all of whom, notwithstand- 
ing the differences among them on particular points, agree 
nearly in their conclusions concerning the sources of our 
ideas. The first of these, after telling us, that ** all our in- 
'* ternal feelings, excepting our sensations, may be called 



Essay IV.] ON THE METAPHYSICAL THEORIES, &«. 167 

" ideas; — that the ideas which resemble sensations may 
'* be called ideas of sensation^ and all the rest intellectual 
** ideas;'*'' — adds, " that the ideas of sensation are the ele- 
** merits of which all the rest are compounded."* In ano- 
ther passage he expresses his hopes, that, " by pursuing 
" and perfecting the doctrine of association, he may, some 
'^ time or other, be enabled to analyse all that vast variety 
** of complex ideas, which pass under the name of ideas 
" of reflection and intellectual ideas^ into their simple com- 
" pounding parts; that is, into the simple ideas of sensation 
" of which they consist. "f And in a subsequent part of 
his work, he points out, still more explicitly, the differ- 
ence between his own doctrine and that of Locke, in the 
following words: ** It may not be amiss here to take notice 
" how far the theory of these papers has led me to differ, 
** in respect of logic, from Mr. Locke's excellent Essay 
" on the Human Understanding, to which the world is so 
** much indebted for removing prejudices and incum- 
" brances, and advancing real and useful knowledge." 

'* First, then, it appears to me, that all the most com- 
" plex ideas arise from sensation; and that reflection is not 
" a distinct source^ as Mr. Locke makes it."} 

The obvious meaning of these different passages is, 
that we have no direct knowledge of the operations of our 
own minds; nor indeed any knowledge whatsoever, which 
is not ultimately resolvable into sensible images. 

As to Dr. Hartley's grand arcanum^ the principle of 
association, by which he conceives that ideas of sensation 
may be transmuted into ideas of reflection^ I have nothing 
to add to what I have already remarked, on the unexam- 

* Hartley on Man, 4th edition, p. 2. of the Introduction. 
t Ibid. pp. 75, 76. \ Page 360. 



168 ON THE METAPHYSICAL THEORIES OF [Essay IV- 

pled latitude with which the words association and idea 
are, both of thenij employed, through the whole of his 
theory. His ultimate aim, in this part of it, is precisely 
the same with that of the schoolmen, when they attempt- 
ed to explain, by the hypothesis of certain internal senses^ 
how thc^ sensible species received from external objects, 
are so refined and spiritualized, as to become, first, ob- 
jects of memory and imagination; and, at last, objects of 
pure intellection. Such reveries are certainly not entitled 
to a serious examination in the present age.* 

* I do not recollect that any one has hitherto taken notice of the 
wonderful coincidence, in this instance, between Hartley's Theory, 
and that of Condillac, formerly mentioned, concerning the transfor- 
mation of sensations into ideas. Condillac's earliest work (which was 
published in 1746, three years before Hartley's Observations on 
Man) is entitled, Essai sur Torigine des Connoissances Humaines. 
Ouvrage ou l^on reduit a un sent firincifie tout ce qui concerne Ven- 
tendement humain. This seul princifw is precisely the association of 
ideas. " J'ai, ce me semble," (the author tells us in his introduction) 
"trouve la solution de tous ces problemes dans la liaison des idees, 
" soit avec les signes, soit entr'elles." — In establishing this theory, 
he avails himself of a licence in the use of the words idea and asso- 
ciation., (although, in my opmion, with far greater ingenuity) strictly 
analogous to what we meet with in the works of Hartley. 

Another coincidence, not less extraordinary, may be remarked 
between Hartley's Theory of the Mechanism of the Mindy and the 
speculations on the same subject, of the justly celebrated Charles 
Bo7inet of Geneva. 

In mentioning these historical facts, I have not the most distant 
intention of insinuating any suspicion of plagiarism; a suspicion 
which I never can entertain with respect to any writer of origi- 
nal genius, and of fair character, but upon the most direct and 
conclusive evidence. The two very respectable foreigners, whose 
names Lave been already mentioned in this note, have furnished 
another example of coincidence, fully as curious as either of the pre- 
ceding: I allude to the hypothesis of the animated statue^ which 
they both adopted about the same time, in tracuig the origin and 
progress of our knowledge; and which neither seems to have bor- 

2 



Essay IV] HARTLEY, PRIESTLEY, AND DARWIN. 169 

It must not, however, be concluded from these extracts, 
that Hartley was a decided materialist. On the contrary, 
after observing, that '' his theory must be allowed to over- 
" turn all the arguments which are usually brought for 
" the immateriality of the soul from the subtilty of the 
*' internal senses, and of the rational faculty," he acknow- 
ledges candidly his own conviction, that '' matter and 
*' motion, however subtly divided, or reasoned upon, yield 
*' nothing but matter and motion still;" and therefore re- 
quests, that '' he may not be, in any way, interpreted so 
" as to oppose the immateriality of the soul."* I mention 
this in justice to Hartley, as most of his later followers 
have pretended, that, by rejecting the supposition of a 
principle distinct from body, they have simplified and 
perfected his theory. 

With respect to Hartley's great apostle, Dr. Priestley, 
I am somewhat at a loss, whether to class him with mate- 
rialists, or with immaterialists; as I find him an advocate, 
at one period of his life, for what he was then pleased to 
call the iimnateriality of matter^ and, at another, for the 
materiality of mind. Of the former of these doctrines, to 
which no words can do justice but those of the author, I 
shall quote his own statement from his *' History of Dis^ 
" coveries relating to Vision, Light, and Colours," first 
published in 1772. 

" This scheme of the immateriality of matter, 
^'as it may be called, or rather the mutual penetr a- 
" tion of matter^ first occurred to my friend Mr. Mitchell, 
'-^ on reading " Baxter on the Immateriality of the Souiy 

rowed, in the slightest degree, from any previous acquaintance with 
the speculations of the other. 

* Havtlev's Observations, pp, 511, and 512. 

Y 



170 ON THE METAPHYSICAL THEORIES OF [Essay IV. 

He found that this author's idea of matter was^ that it 
consisted, as it were, of bricks, cemented together by 
an immaterial mortar. These bricks, if he would be con- 
sistent to his own reasoning, were again composed of 
less bricks, cemented likewise by an immaterial mor- 
tar, and so on ad infinitum. This putting Mr. Mitchell 
upon the consideration of the several appearances of 
nature, he began to perceive, that the bricks were so 
covered with this immaterial mortar, that if they had 
any existence, at all, it could not possibly be perceived, 
every effect being produced, at least in nine instances 
in ten certainly, and probably in the tenth also, by 
this immaterial, spiritual, and penetrable mortar. In- 
stead, therefore, of placing the world upon the giant, 
the giant upon the tortoise, and the tortoise upon he 
could not tell what, he placed the world at once upon 
itself; and finding it still necessary, in order to solve 
the appearances of nature, to admit of extended and 
penetrable immaterial substance, if he maintained the 
impenetrability of matter, and observing farther, that 
all we perceive by contact, &c. is this penetrable im- 
material substance, and not the impenetrable one, he 
began to think he might as well admit oi penetrable ma- 
terial, as of penetrable immaterial substance, especially 
as we know nothing more of the nature of substance^ 
than that it is something which supports properties^ 
which properties may be whatever we please, provided 
they be not inconsistent with each other, that is, do 
not imply the absence of each other. This by no 
means seemed to be the case, in supposing two sub- 
stances to be in the same place at the same time, with- 
out excluding each other; the objection to which is 
only derived from the resistance we meet with to the 



Essay IV.] HARTLEY, PRIESTLEY, AND DARWIN. 171 

" touch, and is a prejudice that has taken its rise from that 
" circumstance, and is not unlike the prejudice against 
" the Antipodes, derived from the constant experience of 
" bodies faUing, as we account it, downwards.""^ 

In the disquisitions on matter and spirit^ by the same 
author, (the second edition of which appeared in 1782) 
the above passage is quoted at length;! but it is some- 
what remarkable, that, as the aim of the latter work is, to 
inculcate the materiality of mind. Dr. Priestley has prudent 
ly suppressed the clause which I have distinguished in 
the first sentence of the foregoing extract, by printing it 
in capitals. 

In one opinion, however, this ingenious writer seems 
to have uniformly persevered since he first republished 
Hartley's Theory, that " man does not consist of two 
*^ principles so essentially different from one another as 
** matter and spirit; but that the whole man is of some 
** uniform co7nposition;X and that either the material or 
** the immaterial part of the vmiversal system is superflu- 
** ous."§ To this opinion (erroneous as I conceive it to 
be) I have no inclination to state any metaphysical ob- 
jections at present; as it does not interfere, in the slightest 
degree, with what I consider as the appropriate business 
of the philosophy of the human mind. I object to it mere- 
ly, as it may have a tendency to mislead our logical con- 
clusions^ concerning the origin and certainty of human 
knowledge. Highly important as the question concerning 
the nature of mind may be supposed to be, when consi- 

* Pages 392, 393. 

t Disquisitions on Matter and Spirit, 2cl edit, p, 26. 

% Preface to Disquisitions, p. 7. 

§ Ibid. p. 6, 



172 ON THE METAPHYSICAL THEORIES OF [Essay IV 

dered in connection with its future prospects, it is evi- 
dently altogether foreign to the speculations in which we 
are now engaged. The only proposition I insist upon is, 
that our knowledge of its phenomena, and of the laws 
which regulate them, is to be obtained, not by looking 
without^ but by looking wzi^Af/z. This rule of philosophizing 
(the most essential of all in this branch of science) is, as 
I forjiicrly observed, not founded upon any particular 
theory^ but is the obvious and irresistible suggestion of 
those powers of consciousness and reflection, which are 
the exclusive sources of our information with respect to 
that class of facts, which forms the appropriate object of 
our study. 

It has become customary, of late, for materialists, to 
object to those who profess to study the mind in the way 
of rejiecdoji, that they suffer themselves to be misled, by 
assuming rashly the existence of a principle in man, es- 
sentially distinct from any thing which is perceived by our 
senses. The truth is, that while we adhere to the method 
of reflection^ we never can be misled by any hypothesis. 
The moment we abandon it, what absurdities are we apt 
to fall into! — Dr. Priestley himself furnishes me with an 
instance in point; — after quoting which, I shall leave my 
readers to judge, which of the two parties in this dispute, 
is most justl}- chargeable with the error, of arguing rashly 
from a gratuitous assumption concerning the nature of 
mind, to establish a general conclusion with respect to its 
principles and laws. 

*' If man" (says Priestley) " be wholly a material be- 
" ing, and the power of thinking the result of a certain 
'* organization of the brain, does it not follow, that all his 
" functions must be regulated by the laws of mechanism, 



Essay IV.] HARTLEY, PRIESTLEY, AND DARWIN. 173 

" and that, of consequence, all his actions proceed from 
" an irresistible necessity?'' 

In another passage, he observes, that " the doctrine of 
*' necessity is the immediate result of the doctrine of the 
*' materiality of man; for mechanism is the undoubted con- 
^' sequence of materialism,''^'^ 

According to this argument, the scheme of material- 
ism leads, by one short and demonstrative step, to the 
denial of man's free agency; that is, a mere hypothesis (for 
what materialist can pretend to offer a shadow of proof 
in its support?) is employed to subvert the authority of 
consciousness, the only tribunal competent to pass any 
judgment whatever on the question at issue. 

It is remarkable, that the argument here proposed by 
Dr. Priestley, with so much gravity, or at least, one ex- 
tremely similar to it, was long ago introduced ironically 
by Dr. Berkeley, in his ingenious dialogues entitled the 
Minute Philosopher, '' Corporeal objects strike on the 
" organs of sense; whence issues a vibration in the nerves, 
*' which, being communicated to the soul, or animal spi» 
" rit in the brain, or root of the nerves, produceth therein 
"that motion called volition: and this produceth a new 
" determination in the spirits, causing them to flow in 
" such nerves, as must necessarily, by the lavv^s of me» 
" chanism, produce such certain actions. This being the 
" case, it follows, that those things which vulgarly pass 
" for human actions, are to be esteemed mechanical, and 
*' that they are falsely ascribed to a free principle. There 
" is, therefore, no foundation for praise or blame, fear or 
" hope, reward or punishment, nor consequently for re- 
^^ ligionj which is built upon, and supposeth those things.'' 
* Disquisitions, Sec, Introd. p. 5. 



174 ON THE METAPHYSICAL THEORIES OF [Essay IV. 

It win not, I trust, be supposed by any of my readers, 
that I mean to ascribe to Dr. Priestley any partiality for 
the dangerous conclusions which Berkeley conceived to 
be deducible from the scheme of necessity. How widely 
soever I may dissent from most of his philosophical te- 
nets, nobody can be disposed to judge more favourably 
than my self J of the motives from which he wrote. In the 
present case, at the same time, truth forces me to add to 
what I have already said, that the alteration which he has 
made on Berkeley's statement, is far from being an im- 
provement, in point of sound logic; for his peculiar no- 
tions about the nature of ?nattef {from which he conceives 
himself to have^^ '' wiped off the reproach of being neces- 
*' sarily inert ^ and absolutely incapable of intelligence^ 
** thought^ or action,'*^) render the argument altogether nu- 
gatory, upon his own principles, even if it were admitted 
to hold good upon those which are generally received. It 
plainly proceeds on the supposition, that the common 
notions concerning matter are well-founded; and falls at 
once to the ground, if we suppose matter to combine, 
with the qualities usually ascribed to itself, all those which 
consciousness teaches us to belong to mind. 

On the question concerning the origin of our know- 
ledge^ Priestley has nowhere explained his opinion fully, 
so far as I am able to recollect; but from his reverence 
for Hartley, I take for granted, that, on this point, he did 
not dissent from the conclusions of his master. In one 
particular, I think it probable that he went a little farther; 
the general train of his speculations concerning the hu- 
man mind, leading me to suspect, that he conceived our 

* Disquisitions, &;c. Vol. I. p. 144, 2d edit. 



Essay IV.] HARTLEY, PRIESTLEY, AND DARWIN. 175 

ideas themselves to be material substances. In this con- 
jecture I am confirmed by the following remark, which 
he makes on a very puerile argument of Wollaston, 
^' that the mind cannot be material, because it is infiuen- 
** ced by reasons:'''^ In reply to which, Priestley observes, 
" that to say that reasons and ideas are not things material, 
** or the affections of a material substance, is to take for 
** granted the very thing to be proved."'^ 

But whatever were Priestley's notions upon this ques- 
tion, there can be no doubt of those entertained by his 
successor, Dr. Darwin, who assumes, as an ascertained 
fact, that " ideas are material things," and reasons about 
them as such, through the whole of his book.f In this 
respect, our English physiologists have far exceeded 
Diderot himself who ventured no farther than to affirm, 
that " every idea must necessarily resolve itself ultimately 
" into a sensible representation or picture." This lan- 
guage of Diderot's (a relic of the old ideal system,) they 
have not only rejected with contempt, but they have insist- 
ed, that when it was used by the Aristotelians, by Des 

* Disquisitions &c. Vol. I. pp. 114, 115. 

t In the very outset of his work he informs us, that " the v/ord 
^^idea, which has various meanings in metaphysical writers, may be 
" defined to be a contraction, or motion, or configuration of the fibres, 
" which constitute the immediate organ of sense;" — (Zoonomia^ 
Vol. I. p. 1 1, 3d edit.) and, in an addendum to the same volume, he 
compares " the universal prepossession, that ideas are immaterial 
" beings, to the stories of ghosts and apparitions, which have so long 
" amused the credulous, without any foundation in nature."— (Ibid. 
p. 513.) I hope it is almost superfluous for me now to repeat, that, 
according to the view of the subject which I have taken, I do not 
ascribe to ideas any objective existence^ either as things material or 
as things immaterial^ and that I use this word merely as synonymous 
with notion or thought. 



176 ON THE METAPHYSICAL THEORIES OF [Essa) IV 

Cartes, and by Locke, it was meant by them to be under- 
stood only as a figure or metaphor. They have accor- 
dingly substituted instead of it, the supposition, that the 
immediate objects of thought are either particles of the 
medullary substance of the brain, or vibrations of these 
particles, — a supposition which, according to my appre- 
hension of it, is infinitely more repugnant to common 
sense, than the more enigmatical and oracular language 
transmitted to us from the dark ages;— while, with all its 
mechanical apparatus, it does not even touch that diffi- 
culty concerning the origin of our knowledge, of which 
the images and species of the schoolmen sufficiently shew% 
that these subtile disputants were not altogether unaware. 

Notwithstanding the celebrity of the names which, in 
the southern part of Great Britain, have lent their credit to 
this very bold hypothesis, I cannot bring myself to ex- 
amine it seriously; recollecting the ridicule which Seneca 
has incurred, by the gravity of his reply to some of his 
stoical predecessors, who maintained, that the cardinal 
virtues are animals. Wild and incredible as this ancient 
absurdity may at first appear, it will be found, upon ex- 
amination, to be fully as reasonable as various tenets which 
have obtained the suffi'ages of the learned in our own 
times. 

I have only to observe farther at present, with respect 
to the doctrine of the materiality of our ideas, that it has 
by no means the merit of so much originality, even in the 
history of our domestic literature, as was probably believ- 
ed by some of its late revivers. It appears, from various 
passages in his works, to have been the decided opinion 
of Sir Keneim Dii^b}^; and it is enlarged upon and deve- 
loped at some length, (though evidently without any wish 



Essay IV.] HARTLEY, PRIESTLEY, AND DARWIN. 177 

on the part of the author, to materialize the mind itself,) 
in a posthumous volume of the celebrated Dr. Hooke. 
The following extract from this last publication, which 
is now but rarely to be met with, 1 cannot forbear to in- 
troduce here, as an interesting fragment of this sort of 
ph7/siologicO'metaph?/sical spGCulaiion; and I may venture 
to assert, that the hypothesis which it takes for granted 
is not inferior, either in point of ingenuity, or in the cer- 
tainty of the data on which it proceeds, to that of any one 
of the three noted theorists referred to above. 

" Memory," (says Hooke) " I conceive to be nothing 
*'else but a repository of ideas, formed partly from the 
''senses, but chiefly by the soul itself. I say partly by 
*^ the senses, because they are, as it were, the collectors 
'* or carriers of the impressions made by objects from 
*' without; delivering them to the repository, or store- 
'* house, where they are to be used. This repository I 
" conceive to be seated in the brain; and the substance 
" thereof I conceive to be the material out of which these 
*' ideas are formed, and where they are also preserved, 
^* when formed, being disposed in some regular order; 
^* which order I conceive to be principally that according 
" to which they are formed; that being first in order that 
" is first formed, and that next which is next; and so on 
" continually by succession, from the time of our birth to 
** the time of our death. So that there is, as it were a con- 
** tinned chain of ideas coiled up in the repository of the 
** brain, the first end of which is farthest removed from 
** the centre, or seat of the soul, where the ideas are form- 
** ed, and the other end is always at the centre, being 
" the last idea formed, which is always the moment pre- 
" sent when considered. And therefore, according as there 



178 ON THE METAPHYSICAL THEORIES OF [Essay IV. 

*' are a greater number of these ideas between the present 
" sensation or thought in the centre, and any other, the 
*' more is the soul apprehensive of the time interposed.'' 
To those who are acquainted with the strong bent of 
Hooke's genius towards mechanics, and who recollect 
that, from his childhood, the art o^ watch-making mvas one 
of his favourite studies,* it may be amusing to combine, 
with the foregoing extract, a remark which occurs more 
than once in the works of Lord Bacon: '' When men of 
*' confined scientific pursuits afterwards betake themselves 
" to philosophy, and to general contemplations, they are 
'' apt to wrest and corrupt them with their former con- 
" ceits." — Nor is Hooke the onlv writer of note, since Ba- 
con's time, who has exemplified the truth of this maxim. 
Another illustration of it, still more closely connected with 
the subject of this Essay, occurs in a profound mathema- 
tical work (entitled Harmonics) by Dr. Smith of Cam- 
bridge. I shall quote the passage I allude to, in the au- 
thor's words, as it contains (independently of its reference 
to my present purpose) a curious hint towards a physio- 
logical theory of the mind, founded on the very same 
hypothesis which was afterwards adopted by Hartley. — 
*' With a view to some other inquiries, I will conclude 
" with the following observations: That, as almost all 
*' sorts of substances are perpetually subject to very mi- 
** nute vibratory motions, and all our senses and faculties 
" seem chiefly to depend upon such motions excited in 
j" the proper organs, either by outward objects, or the 
"powers of the will, there is reason to expect, that the 
** theory of vibrations here given, will not prove useless 

* See tlie Account of his Life. 



Essay IV.] HARTLEY, PRIESTLEY, AND DARWIN. 179 

" in promoting the philosophy of other things besides 
" musical sounds."^ 

Among modern philosophers, however, I am acquaint- 
ed with none to whom Bacon's aphorism applies with 
nearly so great force, as to the ingenious physician whose 
hypothesis, concerning the materiality ofideas^ has led me 
insensibly into these reflections. The influence of his me- 
dical occupations on his habits of thinking, may be traced 
in almost every page of his works, both philosophical and 
poetical; — not only in the physiological language in which 
he uniformly describes our mental operations, but even 
in his detached theories upon the various incidental ques- 
tions which he has started. It is sufficient for me to men- 
tion, as instances, his account of the mechanical process 
by which the human countenance is first moulded into a 
smile; — and his theory of beautiful forms^ deduced from 
the pleasurable sensations, associated by an infant with 
the bosom of its nurse. The enthusiastic praise which 
he bestows on a conjecture of Mr. Hume's, that *' the 
" world may possibly have been generated rather than 
"created,"! is perhaps explicable, in part, on the same 
principle. 

The propensity which all men have to explain the intel° 
lectual phenomena, by analogies borrowed from the ma- 
terial world, has its origin in an error, differing from that 
which misled Hooke and Darwin,, only in this, that the 
latter, being the natural result of the favourite, or of the 
professional habits of the individual, assumes as many dif- 
ferent shapes as the pursuits of mankind; whereas the for» 

* See Harmonics^ printed at Cambridge in 1749. The Preface is 
dated in 1748. 

t See Zoonomia, Vol. IL p. 247, 3d edit. 



180 ON THE METAPHYSICAL THEORIES, &c. [Essay IV, 

mer, having its root in the common principles and com- 
mon circumstances of the human race, may be expected 
to exert its influence on the theories of philosophers, in 
every country, and in every age. The one prejudice would 
have been classed by Bacon with the idola specus; the 
other, with the idola tribus. 

But I must not enlarge farther on systems which, what- 
ever may have been the views of their authors, have ob- 
viously no logical connection with the problem relating 
to the sources of our ideas; a problem which (as I have 
repeatedly observed) is to be solved, not by any hypothe- 
sis concerning the nature of mind, but by an appeal to the 
phenomena of thought, and by an accurate analysis of the 
objects of our knowledge. — On these grounds, our atten- 
tion is naturally attracted to a new and very interesting 
class of facts, which have been accumulated, of late, with 
extraordinary industry, as an inductive demonstration of 
the justness of those principles which I have been endea- 
vouring to controvert; and which have been recommend- 
ed to public notice, (in one instance, at least,) by a much 
more splendid display of learning and genius, than has 
been yet exhibited by any of our metaphysical physio- 
logists. I allude to the philological researches of Mr. Home 
Tooke. 

Before, however, I enter upon any discussions co;n- 
cerning the inferences which these researches have been 
supposed to authorize, it is necessary for me to take a 
pretty wide compass, by premising some general observa- 
tions; the scope of which I am afraid it may be diflicult 
for my readers, at first view, to connect with the inqui- 
ries in which we have been hitherto engaged. I shall 
state, therefore, the whole of my argument at once, as 
clearly and fully as I can, in a separate Essay. 



ESSAY FIFTH, 



ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE PHILOLOGICAL 
SPECULATIONS, 



CHAPTER FIRST, 



IN carrying back our thoughts to the infancy of a cultivat- 
ed language, a difficulty occurs, which, however obviously 
it may seem to present itself, I do not recollect to have 
seen taken notice of by any writer on the human mind; 
and which, as it leads the attention to various questions 
closely connected with the main design of this volume, 
as well as with the particular discussion which has been 
last under our review, I shall point out and illustrate at 
some length. 

In the case of objects which fall under the cognizance 
of any of our external senses, it is easy to conceive the 
origin of the different classes of words composing a con- 
ventional dialect; to conceive, for example, that two sa- 
vages should agree to call this animal a Horse^ and that 
tree an Oak, But, in words relating to things intellectual 
and moral, in what manner was the conventional connec- 
tion at first established between the sign and the thing 
signified? In what manner (to take one of the simplest 
instances) was it settled, that the name of imagination 
should be given to one operation of the mind; that oire^ 



182 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

collection to a second; that of deliberation to a third; that 
of sagacity y or foresight^ to a fourth? Or, supposing the 
use of these words to be once introduced, how was their 
meaning to be explained to a novice, altogether unaccus- 
tomed to think upon such subjects? 

1. In answer to this question, it is to be observed, in 
the first place, that the meaning of many words, of which 
it is impossible to exhibit any sensible prototypes, is grad- 
ually collected by a species of induction^ which is more 
or less successfully conducted by different individuals, 
according to the degree of their attention and judgment. 
The connection in which an unknown term stands in re- 
lation to the other words combined with it in the same 
sentence, often affords a key for its explanation in that 
particular instance; and, in proportion as such instances 
are multiplied in the writings and conversation of men 
well acquainted with propriety of speech, the means are 
afforded of a progressive approximation towards its pre- 
cise import. A familiar illustration of this process pre- 
sents itself in the expedient which a reader naturally em- 
ploys for decyphering the meaning of an unknown word 
in a foreign language, when he happens not to have a dic- 
tionary at hand. The first sentence where the word oc- 
curs, affords, it is probable, sufficient foundation for a 
vague conjecture concerning the notion annexed to it by 
the author; — some idea or other being necessarily substi- 
tuted in its place, in order to make the passage at all in- 
telligible. The next sentence where it is involved, ren- 
ders this conjecture a little more definite; a third sentence 
contracts the field of doubt within still narrower limits; 
till, at length, a more extensive induction fixes com- 
pletely the signification we are in quest of. There can- 



Chap. I.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 1$3 

not be a doubt, I apprehend, that it is in some such way 
as this, that children slowly and imperceptibly enter into 
the abstract and complex notions annexed to numberless 
words in their mother tongue, of which we should find 
it difficult or impossible to convey the sense by formal 
definitions.* 

■ 2. The strong tendency of the mind to express itself 
metaphorically, or analogically, on all abstract subjects, 
supplies another help to facilitate the acquisition of lan- 
guage. The prevalence of this tendency among rude na- 
tions has been often remarked; and has been commonly 
accounted for, partly from the warmth of imagination 
supposed to be peculiarly characteristical of savages, and 
partly from the imperfections of their scanty vocabularies. 
The truth, however, is, that the same disposition is ex- 
hibited by man in every stage of his progress; prompting 
him uniformly, whenever the enlargement of his know- 
ledge requires the use of a new word for the communi-^ 
cation of his meaning, instead of coining at once a sound 
altogether arbitrary, to assist, as far as possible, the ap- 
prehension of his hearers, either by the happy employment 
of some old word in a metaphorical sense, or by grafting 
etymologically on some well known stock, a new deriva- 
tive^ significant, to his own fancy, of the thought he wishes 
to impart. 

To this bias of the mind to enrich language, rather by 
a modification of old materials, than hy the creation of 

* Hence the logical utility of metaphysical pur3iiit3 In training the 
mind to these inductive processes, so essentially connected with 
precisipn in the use of language, and, of consequence, v* ith accuracy 
of reasoning, in ail the various employments of the intellectuai 
powers. 



184 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

new ones, it is owing jthat the number of primitive or ra- 
dical words, in a cultivated tongue, bears so small a pro- 
portion to the whole amount of its vocabulary. In an 
original language, such as the Greek, the truth of this 
remark may be easily verified; and, accordingly, it is 
asserted by Mr. Smith, that the number of its primitives 
does not exceed three hundred.* In the compounded lan- 
guages now spoken in Europe, it is a much more diffi- 
cult task to establish the fact; but an irresistible presump- 
tion in its favour arises from this circumstance, That all 
who have turned their attention of late, in this island, to 
the study of etymology, are impressed with a deep and 
increasing conviction, founded on the discoveries which 
have been already made, that this branch of learning is still 
in its infancy; and that the roots of an immense variety of 
words, commonly supposed to be genuine radicals^ may 
be traced, in a satisfactory manner, to the Saxon or to the 
Icelandic. The delight which all men, however unlettered, 
take in indulging their crude conjectures on the etymolo- 
gical questions which are occasionally started in conversa- 
tion, is founded on the same circumstance; — their experi- 
mental knowledge of the difficulty of introducing into 
popular speech a new sound, entirely arbitrary in its 
selection, and coined out of materials unemployed before. 
Another illustration of this occurs in the reluctance with 
which we adopt the idiomatical turns of expression in a 
foreign tongue, or even the cant words and phrases which, 
from time to time, are springing up in our own, till we 
have succeeded in forming some theory or conjecture to 

* See the Dissertation on Language, annexed to the Theory of 
Moral Sentimeijts. 

2 



Chap. I.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 185 

reconcile the apparent anomaly with the ordinary laws of 
human thought. 

The view of the subject, however, to which I must con- 
fine myself in this Essay, has a reference to those words 
alone which, in the progress of philosophical refinement, 
are introduced to express abstract and complex notions, 
or to characterize the faculties and operations of the think- 
ing and sentient principle within us. That such words 
should all be borrowed from things sensible and familiar, 
was not only the natural consequence of our perceptive 
powers having been long and incessantly exercised, before 
reflection began to awaken to its appropriate objects, but 
was an expedient indispensably necessar)^ towards a suc- 
cessful communication of the thoughts which were to be 
conveyed. This last remark, which I have already slightly 
hinted at, and which led me into the short digression 
which has, for a few moments, diverted my attention to 
some collateral topics, will require a more ample illustra- 
tion. 

I have stated the difficulty attending the origin of words 
expressive of things which do not fall under the cogni- 
zance of any of our senses; and I have also remarked the 
disposition of the mind, on such occasions, to have re- 
course to metaphors borrowed from the material world. 
It is in this proneness of the fancy to employ analogical 
language, in order to express notions purely intellectual, 
that a provision seems to have been made by nature, for 
an intercourse between different minds, concerning things 
abstracted from matter; inasmuch as the very same cir- 
cumstances which open an easier vent to the utterance of 
the speaker, must necessarily contribute powerfully (by 
what Lord Bacon would have called the abscissio infiniti) 

2 A 



186 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

to assist and prompt the apprehension of the hearer. The 
moment that the terms attention^ imagination ^ abstraction, 
sagacity^ foresight, penetration, acuteness, inclination^ 
aversion^ deliberation, are pronounced, a great step to- 
wards their interpretation is made in the mind of every 
person of common understanding; and although this ana- 
logical reference to the material world adds greatly to the 
difficulty of analyzing, with philosophical rigour, the va- 
rious faculties and principles of our nature, yet it cannot 
be denied, that it facilitates, to a wonderful degree, the 
mutual communications of mankind concerning them, in 
so far as such communications are necessary in the ordi- 
nary business of life. Even to the philosopher himself, it 
is probably, in the first instance, indispensably requisite, 
as a preparation for a more accurate survey of the mind. 
It serves, at least, to circumscribe the field of his atten- 
tion within such narrow limits, as may enable him, with 
greater ease, to subject it to the examination of the pow- 
er of reflection; and, in this way, renders fancy subser- 
vient to the ultimate correction of her own illusions. 

And here, I cannot help pausing a little, to remark 
how much more imperfect language is, than is commonly 
supposed, when considered as an organ of mental inter^ 
course. We speak of communicating, by means of words, 
our ideas and our feelings to others; and we seldom re- 
flect sufficiently on the latitude with which this meta- 
phorical phrase ought to be understood.^ The truth is, 
that, even in conversing on the plainest and most familiar 
subjects, however full and circumstantial our statements 
may be, the words which we employ, if examined with 

* Philosophy of the Human Mind, pp. 495, 496, 3d edit. 



Chap. I.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 187 

accuracy, will be found to do nothing more, than to sug- 
gest hints to our hearers, leaving by far the principal part 
of the process of interpretation, to be performed by the 
mind itself. In this respect, the effect of words bears some 
resemblance to the stimulus given to the memory and 
imagination, by an outline or a shadow, exhibiting the 
profile of a countenance familiar to the senses. The most 
minute narratives accordingly, are by no means, in every 
instance, the most intelligible and satisfactory; as the most 
faithful copies after nature do not always form the best 
portraits. In both cases, the skill of the artist consists in 
a happy selection of particulars which are expressive or 
significant, 

" Language," it is commonly said, " is the express im- 
" age of thought;"— and that it may be said, with suffi- 
cient propriety to be so, I do not dispute, when the mean- 
ing of the proposition is fully explained. The mode of 
expression, however, it ought to be remembered, is figu- 
rative; and, therefore, when the proposition is assumed 
as a principle of reasoning, it must not be rigorously or 
literally interpreted. This has too often been overlook- 
ed by writers on the human mind. Even Dr. Reid him- 
self, cautious as he is in general, with respect to the 
ground on which he is to buildj has repeatedly appealed 
to this maxim, without any qualification whatsoever; and, 
by thus adopting it, agreeably to its letter, rather than to 
its spirit, has been led, in various instances, to lay great- 
er stress on the structure of speech, than (in my opinion) 
it can always bear in a philosophical argument. 

As a necessary consequence of this assumption, it has 
been, not unnaturally, inferred by logicians, that every 
word, which is not wholly useless in the vocabulary, is 



188 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

the sign of an idea; and that these ideas (which the com- 
mon systems lead us to consider as the representatives of 
things^) ^XQ the immediate instruments, or (if I may be 
allowed such a phrase,) the intellectual tools with which the 
mind carries on the operation of thinking. In reading, for 
example, the enunciation of a proposition, we are apt to 
fancy, that for every word contained in it, there is an idea 
presented to the understanding; from the combination 
and comparison of which ideas^ results that act of the 
mind C2Mt& judgment. So different is all this from the fact, 
that our words, when examined separately, are often as 
completely insignificant as the letters of which they are 
composed; deriving their meaning solely from the con- 
nection, or relation, in wliich they stand to others. Of this 
a very obvious example occurs, in the case of terms which 
have a variety of acceptations, and of which the import, 
in every particular application, must be collected from the 
whole sentence of which they form a part. When I con- 
sult Johnson's Dictionary, I find many words of which he 
has enumerated forty, fifty, or even sixty different signi- 
fications; and, after all the pains he has taken to distin- 
guish these from each other, I am frequently at a loss how 
to avail myself of his definitions. Yet, when a word of 
this kind occurs to me in a book, or even when I hear it 
pronounced in the rapidity of viva voce discourse, I at once 
select, without the slightest effort of conscious thought, 
the precise meaning which it was intended to convey. 
How is this to be explained but by the light thrown upon 
the problematical term by the general import of the sen- 
tence? — a species of interpretation easily conceivable, 
where I have leisure to study the context deliberately; 
but which, in the circumstances I have now supposed, 



Chap. I] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 189 

implies a quickness in the exercise of the intellectual 
powers, which, the more it is examined, will appear the 
more astonishing. It is constant habit alone, that keeps 
these intellectual processes out of view; — giving to the 
mind such a celerity in its operations, as eludes the ut- 
most vigilance of our attention; and exhibiting, to the 
eyes of common observers, the use of speech, as a much 
simpler, and less curious phenomenon, than it is in reality. 

A still more palpable illustration of the same remark 
presents itself, when the language we listen to admits of 
such transpositions in the arrangenicnt of word , as are 
familiar to us in the Latin. In such cases, the artificial 
structure of the discourse suspends, in a great measure, 
our conjectures about the sense, till, at the close of the 
period, the verb^ in the very instant of its utterance, un- 
riddles the a^igma. Previous to this, the former words 
and phrases resemble those detached and unmeaning 
patches of different colours, which compose what opti- 
cians call an anamorphosis; while the eflPect of the verb, at 
the end, may be compared to that of the mirror by which 
the anamorphosis is reformed, and which combines these 
apparently fortuitous materials into a beautiful portrait or 
landscape. 

In instances of this sort, it will be generally found, upon 
an accurate examination, that the intellectual act, as far as 
we are able to trace it, is altogether simple, and incapable 
of analysis; and that the elements into which we flatter 
ourselves we have resolved it, are nothing more than the 
grammatical elements of speech; — the logical doctrine 
about the comparison of ideas bearing a much closer affi- 
nity to the task of a schoolboy in parsing his lesson, than 



190 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay Y. 

to the researches of philosophers, able to form a just con- 
ception of the mystery to be explained. 

These observations are general, and apply to every case 
in which language is employed. When the subject, how- 
ever, to which it relates, involves notions which are ab- 
stract and complex, the process of interpretation becomes 
much more complicated and curious; involving, at every 
step, that species of mental induction which I have already 
endeavoured to describe. In reading, accordingly, the most 
perspicuous discussions, in which such notions form the 
subject of the argument, little instruction is received, till 
we have made the reasonings our own^ by revolving the 
steps again and again in our thoughts. The fact is, that, 
in cases of this sort, the function of language is not so 
much to convey knowledge (according to the common 
phrase) from one mind to another; as to bring two minds 
into the same tram of thinking; and to confine them, as 
nearly as possible, to the same track. — Many authors 
have spoken of the wonderful mechanism of speech; but 
none has hitherto attended to the far more wonderful 
mechanism which it puts into action behind the scene- 

The speculations of Mr. Home Tooke, (whatever the 
conclusions were to which he meant them to be subser- 
vient) afford, in every page, illustrations of these hints, by 
shewing how imperfect and disjointed a thing speech was 
in its infant state, prior to the development of those va- 
rious cow.ponent parts, which now appear to be essential 
to its existence. But on this particular view of the sub- 
ject I do not mean to enlarge at present. 



Chap. II.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 191 



CHAPTER SECOND. 

If the different considerations, stated in the preceding 
chapter, be carefully combined together, it will not appear 
surprizing, that, in the judgment of a great majority of 
individuals, the common analogical phraseology concern- 
ing the mind should be mistaken for its genuine philoso- 
phical theory. It is only by the patient and persevering ex- 
ercise of reflection on the subjects of consciousness, that 
this popular prejudice can be gradually surmounted. In 
proportion as the thing typified grows familiar to the 
thoughts, the metaphor will lose its influence on the fancy; 
and while the signs we employ continue to discover, by 
their etymology, their historical origin, they will be ren- 
dered, by long and accurate use, virtually equivalent to 
literal and specific appellations. A thousand instances, per- 
fectly analogous to this, might be easily produced from 
the figurative words and phrases which occur every mo- 
ment in ordinary conversation. They who are acquainted 
with Warburton's account of the natural progress of writ- 
ing, from hieroglyphics to apparently arbitrary characters, 
cannot fail to be struck with the similarity between the 
history of this art, as traced by him, and the gradual process 
by which metaphorical terms come to be stripped of that 
literal import, which, at first, pointed them out to the se- 
lection of our rude progenitors. Till this process be com- 
pleted, with respect to the words denoting the powers 
and operations of the understanding, it is vain far us to ex- 



192 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

pect any success in our inductive researches concerning 
the principles of the human frame. 

In thus objecting to metaphorical expressions, as solid 
data for our conclusions in the science of mind, I would 
not be understood to represent them as of no use to the 
speculative inquirer. To those who delight to trace the 
history of language, it may, undoubtedly, form an inte- 
resting, and not unprofitable employment, to examine the 
circumstances by which they were originally suggested, 
and the causes which may have diversified them in the 
case of different nations. To the philologer it may also 
aiford an amusing and harmless gratification, (by tracing, 
to their unknown roots, in some obscure and remote dia- 
lects, those words which, in his mother tongue, generally 
pass for primitives,) to shew, that even the terms which de- 
note our most refined and abstracted thoughts, were bor- 
rowed originally from some object of external perception. 
This, indeed, is nothing more than what the considera- 
tions, already stated, would have inclined us to expect a 
priori; and which, how much soever it may astonish those 
who have been accustomed to confine their studies to 
grammar alone, must strike every philosopher, as the na- 
tural and necessary consequence of that progressive or- 
der in which the mind becomes acquainted with the dif- 
ferent objects of its knowledge, and of those general laws 
which govern human thought in the employment of arbi- 
trary signs. While the philologer, however, is engaged 
in these captivating researches, it is highly necessary to 
remind him, from time to time, that his discoveries belong 
to the same branch of literature with that which furnish- 
es a large proportion of the materials in our common lex- 
icons and etymological dictionaries; — that after he has 



Chap. II.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 193 

told US, (for example) that imagination is borrowed from 
an optical image, and acuteness from a Latin word, de- 
noting the sharpness of a material instrument, we are no 
more advanced in studying the theory of the human in- 
tellect, than we should be in our speculations concerning 
the functions of money, or the political eftects of the na- 
tional debt, by learning, from Latin etymologists, that 
the word pecunia, and the phrase ess aliemim had both a 
reference, in their first origin, to certain circumstances 
in the early state of Roman manners.* 

From these slight hints, considered in their connection 
with the subject which introduced them, some of my rea- 
ders must have anticipated the use of them I intend to 
make, in prosecuting the argument concerning the origin 
of human knowledge. To those, however, who have not 
read Mr. Tooke's work, or who, in reading it, have not 
been aware of the very subtile and refined train of think- 
ing which latently connects his seemingly desultory ety^ 
mologies, it may be useful for me to select one or two ex- 
amples, where Mr, Tooke himself has been at pains to 
illustrate the practical application, of which he conceived 
his discoveries to be susceptible, to philosophical discus- 
sions. This is the more necessary, as, in general, he 
seems purposely to have confined himself to the statement 
of premises, without pointing out (except by implication 
or innuendo) the purposes to which he means them to be 
applied;— a mode of writing, I must beg leave to observe, 
which, by throwing an air of mystery over his real design, 
and by amusing the imagination with the prospect of some 
wonderful secret afterwards to be revealed, has given to 

*See^ote(0). 

2B 



194 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [EJssay V. 

his triilv learned and original disquisitions, a degree of 
celebrity among the smatterers in science, which they 
would never have acquired, if stated concisely and sys- 
tematically in a didactic form. 

"Right is no other than RECT-um, fregitumj the 
" past participle of the Latin verb regere. In the same 
" manner, our English verb just is the past participle of 
" the verb jubere, 

'' Thus, when a man demands his right he asks only 
^' that which it is ordered he shall have. 

"A RIGHT conduct is, that which is ordered, 

"A RIGHT reckoning is, that which is ordered, 

"A RIGHT line is, that which is ordered or directed — 
'' (not a random extension, but) the shortest distance be- 
" tween two points. 

" The RIGHT road is, that ordered or directed to be 
*' pursued (for the object you have in view.) 

*' To do RIGHT is, to do that which is ordered to be 
'^'done.* 

* The application of the same word to denote a straight line^ and 
moral rectitude of conduct^ has obtained in every language I know; 
and might, I think, be satisfactorily explained, without founding 
the theory of morality upon a philological nostrum concerning fiast 
particifiles. The following passage from the Ayeen Akberry (which 
must recal to every memory the line of Horace, Scilicet ut possem 
curvo dignoscere rectum) deserves to be quoted, as an additional 
proof of the universality of the association which has suggested this 
metaphor. 

*' In the beginning of the reign, Mollana Muksood^ seal engraver, 
<* cut on steel, in the Roka character, the name of his majesty, with 
" those of his predecessors, up to Timur; and after that, he cut ano- 
" ther in the Nustaleek character, with his majesty's name alone. 
" For every thing relative to petitions, another seal was made, ot a 
'■ semicir cular form. On one side was, 

" Rectitude is the means of pleasing God: 
" I never saw any one lost in a straight road." 

Ayeen Akberry, Vol. I. p. 67 



Chap. U.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 19S 

" To be in the right is, to be in such situations or 
** circumstances as are ordered. 

** To have right or law on one's side is, to have in 
^* one's favour that which is ordered or laid down. 

" A right and just action is, such a one as is ordered 
^* and commanded. 

"A JUST man is, such as he is commanded to be — qui 
" leges juraque servat — who observes and obeys the things 
** laid down and commanded." 

" It appears to me highly improper to say, that 

^* God has a right, as it is also to say, that God is just. 
** For nothing is ordered, directed, or coinmanded concer. 
'' ning God. The expressions are inapplicable to the De- 
** ity; though they are common, and those vd\o use them 
** have the best intentions. They are applicable only to 
*' men; to whom alone language belongs, and of whose 
" sensations only words are the representatives to men, 
" who are, by nature, the subjects of orders and commands^ 
" and whose chief merit is obedience." 

In reply to the objection, that, according to this doctrine, 
every thing that is ordered smd commanded is right and 
JUST, Mr. Tooke not only admits the consequence, but 
considers it as an identical proposition. 

"It is only affirming" (he observes) "that what isor- 
" dered and commanded is — ordered aiid commanded,''^ "^ 

With regard to wrong, he observes afterwards, that 
"it is the past participle of the verb to wring, wringan, 

* It must not, however, be concluded from this language, that Mr. 
Tooke has any leaning to Hobbisra. On the contrary, in the sequel 
of the discussion, he lays great stress on the distinction between 
what is ordered by human authority, and what the laws of our nature 
teach us to consider as ordered by God, 



196 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

*' torquere. The word answering to it in Italian is torto^ 
*' the past participle of the verb torquere; whence the 
" French also have tort. It means merely wrung, or wrest- 
" ed from the right, or ordered, line of conduct." 

Through the whole of this passage, Mr. Tooke evi- 
dently assumes, as a principle, that, in order to ascertain, 
with precision, the philosophical import of any word, it 
is necessary to trace its progress historically through all 
the successive meanings which it has been employed to 
convey, from the moment that it was first introduced into 
our language; or if the word be of foreign growth, that 
we should prosecute the etymological research, till we 
ascertain the literal and primitive sense of the root from 
whence it sprung. It is in this literal and primitive sense 
alone, that, according to him, a philosopher is entitled to 
employ it, even in the present advanced state of science; 
and whenever he annexes to it a meaning at all different, 
he imposes equally on himself and on others.* To me, 
on the contrary, it appears, that to appeal to etymology in 
a philosophical argument, (excepting, perhaps, in those 
cases where the word itself is of philosophical origin) is 
altogether nugatory; and can serve, at the best, to throw 
an amusing light on the laws which regulate the opera- 

* " As far as we know not our own meaning;" as far " as our pur- 
"poses are not endowed with words to make them known;" so far, 
" we gabble like things most brutish."—" But the importance rises 
" higher, when we reflect upon the application of words to meta- 
" physics. And when I say metafihyucs, you will be pleased to re- 
*' member, that all general reasoning, all politics, law, morality, and 
" divinity, are merely metajihysic." — For what reason, I must beg 
leave to ask, has Mr. Tooke omitted mathematics in this enumeration 
of the different branches of ^ne^iz/z/iz/s/ca/ science? Upon his own prin- 
ciple, it is fully as well entitled to a place as any of the others. — 
Diversions of Parley, Part ii. p. 12 J. 



Chap. 11.3 PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 197 

tions of human fancy. In the present instance, Mr. Tooke 
has availed himself of a philological hypothesis (the evi- 
dence of which is far from being incontrovertible) to de- 
cide, in a few sentences, and, in my opinion, to decide 
very erroneously, one of the most important questions 
connected with the theory of morals. 

I shall only mention another example, in which Mr, 
Tooke has followed out, with still greater intrepidity, his 
general principle to its most paradoxical and alarming 
consequences. 

"True, as we now write it; or trew, as it was for- 
" nierly written; means simply and merely, — that which 
*' is TROWED. And instead of being a rare commodity 
" upon earth, except only in words, there is nothing but 
" TRUTH in the world. 

" That every man, in his communication with others, 
" should speak that which he troweth, is of so great 
" importance to mankind, that it ought not to surprise us, 
" if we find the most extravagant praises bestowed upon 
** truth. But TRUTH supposcs m^iukiud; Jor whom, and 
*' by whom, alone the word is formed, and to whom only 
" it is applicable. If no man, no truth. There is, there- 
" fore, no such thing as eternal, immutable, everlasting 
"truth; unless mankind, such as they are at present, be 
" also eternal, immutable, and everlasting."^ 

* Mr. Tooke observes immediately afterwards, that " the Latin 
« verus also means trowed, and nothing else." In proof of which 
he reasons thus: " Res^ a thing, gives reor, i. e. I am thing-ed; 
" Fereor, I am strongly thing-ed; for x^e, in Latin composition, means 
<< valde, i. e. valide. And -uerus, i. e. strongly impressed upon the 
" mind, is the contracted participle of vereor,''* 

It was not without some cause that Mr. Tooke's fellow dialogist 
(whom he distinguishes by the letter F.), ventured to exclaim, on 
this occasion: " lam thingedl Who ever used such language before?" 



198 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

But what connection, it may be asked, have these quo- 
tations with the question about the origin of human know- 
ledge? The answer will appear obvious to those who 
have looked into the theories which have been built on 
the general principle just referred to;^ — a principle which 
it seems to have been the main object of Mr. Tooke's 
book to confirm, by an induction of particulars;^ and 

* I think it proper to quote here a few sentences from Mr. Tooke, 
in confirmation of this remark. 

" Perhaps it was for mankind a lucky mistake (for it was a mis- 
" take) which Mr> Locke made, when he called his book an Essay 
" on Human Under standing; for some part of the inestimable benefit 
" of that book, has, merely on account of its title, reached to many 
»* thousands more than, I fear, it would have done, had he called it 
" (what it is \n€,Yt\y^ a grammatical essay ^ or a treatise on words, or on 
" language.''''- ■ 

— — " It may appear presumptuous, but it is necessary here to 
" declare my opinion, that Mr. Locke, in his Essay, never did ad- 
^' vance one step beyond the origin of ideas, and the composition of 
« terms." 

In reply to this and some other observations of the same sort, Mr. 
Tooke's partner in the dialogue is made to express himself thus: 

'^ Perhaps you may imagine, that if Mr, Locke had been aware 
"that he was only writing concerning language, he might have 
*' avoided treating of the origin of ideas; and to have escaped the 
« quantity of abuse which has been unjustly poured upon him for 
"his opinion on that subject." 

Mr. Tooke answers: " No. I think he would have set out just as he 
'*^did, with the origin of ideas; the proper starting-post of a gramma- 
« rian who is to treat of their signs. Nor is he singular in referring 
<' them all to the senses; and in beginning an account of language in 
" that manner." 

To this last sentence, the following note is subjoined, which may 
serve to shew, in what sense Mr. Tooke understands Locke's doc- 
trine; and that, in expounding it, so far from availing himself of the 
lights struck out by Locke's successors, he has preferred the dark, 
comments of an earlier age. 

" JVihil in intellectu quod non firius in sensu, is, as well as its con- 
" verse, an ancient and well known position. 

" Sicut in speculo ea quae videntur non sunt, sed eorum »p€cie9: 



Chap.iL] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 199 

which, if it were admitted as sound, would completely 
undermine the foundations both of logic and of ethics. 
In truth, it is from this general principle, combined with 
a fact universally acknowledged among philosophers, (the 
impossibility of speaking about mind or its phenomena, 
without employing a metaphorical phraseology) that so 
many of our late philologists and grammarians, dazzled, 
as it should seem, with the novelty of these discoveries^ 
have shewn a disposition to conclude, (as Diderot and 
Helvetius formerly did from other premises) that the only 
real knowledge we possess relates to the objects of our 
external senses; and that we can annex no idea to the word 
mind itself, but that of matter in the most subtile and at- 
tenuated form which imagination can lend it, — Nor are 
these the only, or the most dangerous consequences, in- 
volved in Locke's maxim, when thus understood. I point 
them out at present, in preference to others, as being more 
nearly related to the subject of this Essay. 

Mr. Tooke has given some countenance to these infer- 
ences, by the connection in which he introduces the fol- 
lowing etymologies from Vossius. 

" Animus^ Anima^ riveujitct and "^y^x^ ^^^ participles.'' 
- — " Anima est ab Animus, Animus vero est a Graeco 
** Avepo?, quod dici volunt quasi Ag^o?, ab Aw sive Agp^ 
" quod est rivg&j; et Latinis a Spirando, Spiritus. Immo 
" et "^-ox^ est a "i^v^" quod Hesychius exponit rivgw." 

I have already, on various occasions, observed, that the 

" ita quae intelligimus, ea sunt re ipsa extra nos, eorumque sjiecie.% 
"in nobis. Est enim quasi rerum speculum intellectus nos- 
" ter; cui, nisi per sensum represententur res, nihil scit 
' " ipse." — (J. C. Scaliger, chap. 66.) Diversions of Purley, Vol. I. pp. 
42, 43, 46,, 47. 



200 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

question concerning the nature of mindy is altogether fo- 
reign to the opinion we form concerning the theory of its 
operations; and that, granting it to be of a material origin, 
it is not the less evident, that all our knowledge of it is to 
be obtained by the exercise of the powers of conscious- 
ness and of reflection. As this distinction, however, has 
been altogether overlooked by these profound etymolo- 
gists, I shall take occasion, from the last quotation, to pro- 
pose, as a problem not unworthy of their attention, an exa- 
mination of the circumstances which have led men, in all 
9ges, to apply, to the sentient and thinking principle with- 
in us, some appellation synonymous with spiritus or 7rvgu/>cflt; 
and, in other cases, to liken it to a spark offire, or some 
other of the most impalpable and mysterious modifica- 
tions of matter. Cicero hesitates between these two forms 
of expression; evidently, however, considering it as a 
matter of little consequence which we should adopt, as 
both appeared to him to be equally unconnected with our 
conclusions concerning the thing they are employed to ty- 
pify: " Anima sit animus, ignisve nescio; nee me pudet, 
*' fateri nescire quod nesciam. Illud si ulla alia de re ob- 
^* scura affirmare possem, sive anima sive ignis sit animus, 
" eum jurarem esse divinum." This figurative language, 
with respect to mind, has been considered by some of 
our later metaphysicians, as a convincing proof, that the 
doctrine of its materiality is agreeable to general belief; 
and that the opposite hypothesis has originated in the 
blunder of confounding what is very minute with what is 
immaterial. 

To me, I must confess, it appears to lead to a conclu- 
sion directly opposite. For, whence this disposition to at- 
tenuate and subtilize, to the very verge of existence^ 



Chap. II.j PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 201 

the atoms or elements supposed to produce the pheno- 
inena of thought and volition, but from the repugnance 
of the scheme of materialism to our natural apprehensions; 
and from a secret anxiety to guard against a literal inter- 
pretation of our metaphorical phraseology? Nor has this 
disposition been confined to the vulgar. Philosophical 
materialists themselves have only refi,ned farther on the 
popular conceptions, by entrenching themselves against 
the objections of their adversaries, in the modern discov= 
eries concerning light and electricity, and other inscrutable 
causes, ^manifested by their effects alone. Insomeinstances, 
they have had recourse to the supposition of the possi- 
ble existence of matter, under forms incomparably more 
subtile than what it probably assumes in these, or in any 
other class of physical phenomena; — a hypothesis which 
it is impossible to describe better than in the words of 
La Fontaine: 

" Quintessence d'atome, extrait de la lumiere.'' 

It is evident that, in using this language, they have only 
attempted to elude the objections of their adversaries, by 
keeping the absurdity of their theory a little more out of 
the view of superficial inquirers; divesting matter com- 
pletely of all those properties by which it is known to our 
senses; and substituting, instead of what is commonly 
meant by that word, — infinitesimal or evanescent entities, 
in the pursuit of which imagination herself is quickly 
lost. 

The prosecution of this remark would, if I am not 
mistaken, open a view of the subject widely different 
from that which modern materialists have taken. But as 
it would lead me too far aside from my present design, 

2 Q 



202 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V 

I shall content myself with observing here, that the rea- 
sonings which have been lately brought forward in their 
support, by their new philological allies, have proceeded 
upon two errors, extremely common even among our best 
philosophers; — first, the error of confounding the histo- 
rical progress of an art with its theoretical principles 
when advanced to maturity; and, secondly, that of con- 
sidering language as a much more exact and complete 
picture of thought, than it is in any state of society, whe- 
ther barbarous or refined. With both of these errors, Mr. 
Tooke appears to me to be chargeable in an eminent degree. 
Of the latter, I have already produced various instances; 
and of the former, his whole work is one continued illus- 
tration. After stating, for example, the beautiful result 
of his researches concerning conjunctions, the leading in- 
ference which he deduces from it is, that the common ar- 
rangement of the parts of speech, in the writings of gram- 
marians, being inaccurate and unphilosophical, must con- 
tribute greatly to retard the progress of students in the 
acquisition of particular languages: whereas nothing can 
be more indisputable than this, that his speculations do not 
relate, in the least, to the analysis of a language, after it 
has assumed a regular and systematical form; but to the 
gradual steps by which it proceeded to that state, from 
the inartificial jargon of savages. They are speculations, 
not of a metaphysical, but of a purely philological nature: 
belonging to that particular species of disquisition which 
I have elsewhere called theoretical history,^ To prove 
that conjunctions are a derivative part of speech, and that, 
at first, their place was supplied by words which are con- 

* See the account of the Life and Writings of Mr, Smith, prefixed 
to his Posthumous Essays. 



C'hap.U.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 203 

fessedly pronouns or articles, does not prove, that they 
ought not to be considered as a separate part of speech 
at present^ anymore than Mr. Smith's theory with re- 
spect to the gradual transformation of proper names in- 
to appellatives, proves, that proper names and ap- 
pellatives are now radically and essentially the same; 
or than the employment of substantives to supply the 
place of adjectives, (which Mr. Tooke tells us is one of 
the signs of an imperfect language) proves, that no gram- 
matical distinction exists between these two parts of 
speech, in such tongues as the Greek, the Latin, or the 
English. Mr. Tooke, indeed, has not hesitated to draw this 
last inference also; but, in my own opinion, with nearly as 
great precipitation, as if he had concluded, because savages 
supply the want of forks by their fingers, that therefore 
a finger and a fork are the same thing. 

The application of these considerations to our meta^ 
phorical phraseology relative to the mind, will appear more 
clearly from the following chapter. 



204 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V 



CHAPTER THIRD. 

1 HE incidental observations which I have made in dif- 
ferent parts of the Philosophy of the Human Mind^on the 
circumstances which contribute to deprive that branch of 
science of an appropriate and specific phraseology, to- 
gether with those on the same subject in the former chap- 
ter of this Essay, preclude the necessity of a formal reply 
to the philological comments of Mr. Tooke on the origin^ 
of our ideas. If any thing farther be wanting for a complete 
refutation of the conclusion which he supposes them to es- 
tablish, an objection to it, little short of demonstrative, may 
be derived from the variety of metaphors which may be 
all employed, with equal propriety, wherever the pheno- 
mena of mind are concerned. As this observation (obvi- 
ous as it may seem) has been hitherto very little, if at all 
attended to, in its connection with our present argument, 
I shall endeavour to place it in as strong a light as I can. 
A very apposite example, for my purpose, presents it- 
self immediately, in our common language with respect to 
memory. In speaking of that faculty, every body must have 
remarked, how numerous and how incongruous are the 
similitudes involved in our expressions. At one time, we 
liken it to a receptacle^ in which the linages of things are 
treasured up in a certain order; at another time, we fancy 
it to resemble a tablet , on which these images are stamped, 
more or less deeply; on other occasions again, we seem 
to consider it as something analogous to the canvas of a 



Chap. HI.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 205 

painter. Instances of all these modes of speaking, may be 
collected from no less a writer than Mr. Locke. " Me- 
*' thinks" (says he, in one place), " the understanding is 
^ not much unlike a closet, wholly shut up from light, with 
" only some little opening left, to let in external visible 
" resemblances, or ideas, of things without: Would the 
^'pictures coming into such a dark room hut stay there, and 
" lie so orderly as to he found upon occasion, it would very 
" much resemble the understanding of a man, in reference 
'' to all objects of sight, and the ideas of them." — In a 
different part of his Essay, he has crowded into a few 
sentences, a variety of such theories; shifting backwards 
and forwards from one to another, as they happen at the 
moment to strike his fancy. I allude to a very interesting 
passage with respect to the decay of memory, produced 
occasionally by disease or old age;-— a passage where, I 
cannot help remarking by the way, that the impression of 
the writer, with respect to the precariousness of the ten- 
ure by which the mind holds its most precious gifts, has 
elevated the tone of his composition to a strain of figura^ 
tive and pathetic eloquence, of which I do not recollect 
that his works afford any similar example. ^^ The memory, 
^* in some men, it is true, is very tenacious, even to a 
^' miracle; but yet there seems to be a constant decay of 
*' all our ideas, even of those which are struck deepest, and 
" in minds the most retentive; so that, if they be not some- 
"times renewed by repeated exercise of the senses, or 
" reflection on those kind of objects which at first occa- 
''* sioned them, the print wears out, and at last there re- 
'' mains nothing to be seen. Thus, the ideas, as well as 
*' children of our youth, often die before us: And our 
** minds represent to us those tombs to which we are ap^ 



^6 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V 

" proaching; where, though the brass and marble remain, 
" yet the inscriptions are effaced by time and the imagery 
^' moulders away. The pictures drawn in our minds are 
" laid in fading colours^ and if not sometimes refreshed^ 
^'vanish and disappear, ^"^ He afterwards adds, that "we 
*' sometimes find a disease strip the mind of all its ideas, 
^* and the flames of a fever ^ in a few days, calcine all those 
" images to dust and confusion which seemed to be as last- 
^^ ing as if graved on marble, ^^ Such is the poverty of lan- 
guage, that it is, perhaps, impossible to find words with 
respect to memory, which do not seem to imply one or 
other of these different hypotheses; and to the sound phi- 
losopher, they are, all of them, (when considered merely 
as modes of expression) equally unexceptionable; be- 
cause, in employing them, he, in no case, rests his reason- 
ing upon the sign, but only upon the thing signified. To 
the Materialist, however, it may not be improper to hint, 
that the several hypotheses already alluded to, are com- 
pletely exclusive of each other; and to submit to his con- 
sideration, whether the indiscriminate use, among all our 
most precise writers, of these obviously inconsistent meta- 
phors, does not justify us in concluding, that none of them 
has any connection with the true theory of the phenomena 
which he conceives them to explain; and that they deserve 
the attention of the metaphysician, merely as familiar 
illustrations of the mighty influence exerted over our 
most abstracted thoughts, by laiiguage and by early 
associations,^ 

Nor must it be forgotten, that, even in pure Mathema- 
tics, our technical language is borrowed from the physi- 
<^al properties and affections of matter; a proposition, of 

* See Note (P). 



Ciiap. III.3 PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 207 

which it is unnecessary for me to mention any other 
proofs, than the terms employed to express the most ele- 
mentary notions of geometry; such terms, for example, as 
point, line, surface, solid, angle, tangent, intersection, cir- 
cumference; not to insist on such phrases as, involutes and 
evolutes, osculating circle, and various others of a similar 
description. The use made of this sort of figurative lan- 
guage in arithmetic, is an instance, perhaps, still more 
directly to our present purpose; as when we speak of the 
squares, cubes, and^ac^iow^ of numbers; to which may be 
added, as a remarkable instance of the same thing, the 
application of the word fluxion to quantity considered in 
general. 

Notwithstanding these considerations, I do not know 
©f any person, possessing the slightest claim to the name 
of philosopher, who has yet ventured to infer, from the 
metaphorical origin of our mathematical language, that 
it is impossible for us to annex to such words as pointy 
line, or solid, any clear or precise notions, distinct from 
those which they literally express; or, that all our conclu- 
sions, founded on abstractions from the combinations 
presented to us by our external senses, must necessarily 
be vain and illusory. It is possible, indeed, that some may 
be disposed to make a distinction between having a notio7z 
or idea of an object, and being able to treat it as a subject 
of reasoning; — betv/een having a notion, for example, of 
length without breadth, and reasojiing concerning the one 
dimension without any reference to the other. To this 
distinction, trifling as it is in reality, I have no material 
objection to state on the present occasion, as I should be 
completely satisfied, if it were as scrupulously attended 
to in the philosophy of mind, as it uniformly is in the de-- 



208 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

inonstrations of the mathematician; — the sensible images 
presented to the fancy by the metaphorical words em- 
ployed to denote the internal phenomena, being consi- 
dered as analogous to the extension of points, and the 
breadth of lines in a geometrical diagram; and the same 
abstraction from the literal import of our words being 
steadily maintained, in all our reasonings in the former 
science, which is indispensably necessary to enable us to 
arrive at any useful conclusions in the latter. 

Of Mr. Tooke's opinion on the nature of general rea- 
soning, we are not, as yet, fully informed; nor has he 
even explained himself concerning the logical principles 
of mathematical science. He has, indeed, given us to un- 
derstand, that he conceived the whole of his second vo- 
lume to be levelled at the imaginary power of abstrac- 
tion; and towards the close of it, he expresses himself, in 
pretty confident terms, as having completely accomplish- 
ed his object: *' You have now instances of my doctrine, 
" in, I suppose, about a thousand words. Their nuniber 
** may be easily increased. But I trust these are sufficient 
" to discard that imagined operation of the mind which 
" has been called abstraction; and to prove, that what we 
*' call by that name, is merely one of the contrivances of 
** language for the purpose of more speedy communis 
" cation."* 

In what manner Mr. Tooke connects this very copi- 
ous induction, with the inference he deduces from it, I 
must confess myself unable to comprehend. For my own 
part, I can perceive no logical connection whatsoever be- 
tween his premises and his conclusion; nor do his nume- 

* Toolge, Vol. ii. p. 396. 



Chap. III. J PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS, 209 

reus examples appear to me to establish any one general 
truth, but the influence of fancy and of casual association 
on the structure of speech. Not that I consider this as a 
conclusion of little moment; for of the reciprocal influence 
of speech on our speculative judgments, I am fully aware; 
and, perhaps, if I wished for an illustration of the fact, I 
should be tempted to refer to the train of thought which 
has given birth to the second volume of the Diversions of 
Purley, as the most remarkable example of it that has 
yet occurred in literary history.—'' Credunt homines'' 
(says Bacon) " rationem suam verbis imperare, sed fit 
" etiam, ut verba vim suam super rationem retorqueant." 

With respect to abstraction^ I think it probable that Mr, 
Tooke has fallen into an error very prevalent among later 
writers, — that of supposing Berkeley's argument against 
abstract ge?ieral ideas to have proved a great deal more 
than it does. 

That Berkeley has shewn, in the most satisfactory man« 
ner, the incorrectness of Locke's language upon this sub- 
ject, and that he has throw^n a clear and strong light on 
the nature of general reasoning, is now, I believe, admit- 
ted by all who are acquainted with his writings. But does 
it follow from Berkeley's argument, that abstraction is an 
imaginary faculty of the mind, or that our general con- 
clusions are less certain than former logicians had con- 
ceived? No one, undoubtedly, can, for a moment, admit 
such suppositions, who understands what the word ab- 
straction means, and w^ho has studied the first book of 
Euclid's Elements. 

On these, and some other collateral points, it is to be 

hoped, that Mr. Tooke will communicate his peculiar 

views more unreservedly, in the farther prosecution of 

2 D 



210 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [EsSay V. 

his design: — in looking forward to which, I trust I shall 
be pardoned, if I express a wish (which I am sure I feel 
in common with many of his admirers) that he would 
condescend to adopt the usual style of didactic writing, 
without availing himself of a form of composition which 
eludes the most obvious and the most insuperable diffi- 
culties, by means of a personal sarcasm, or of a political 
epigram. 

Strongly impressed with the prevalence of errors, simi- 
lar to those which have misled Mr. Tooke to so unpre- 
cedented a degree, a philosophical grammarian, of the 
first eminence, long ago recommended the total proscrip- 
tion of figurative terms from all abstract discussions.* To 
this proposal D'Alembert objects, that it would require 
the creation of a new language, unintelligible to all the 
world: — for which reason, he advises philosophers to ad- 
here to the common modes of speaking; guarding them- 
selves, as much as possible, against the false judgments 
which they may have a tendency to occasion, f To me 

* Du Marsais. Article Abstraction in the Encyclofiedie. 

t Un Grammairien Philosophe voudroit, que dans les matieres 
metaphysiques et didactiques, on evitat, le plus qu'il est possible, les 
expressions figurees; qu'on ne dit pas qu'une idee en renferme une 
autre, qu'on unit ou qu*on sefiare des idees, et ainsi du reste. II est 
certain que lorsqu*on se propose de rendre sensibles des idees pure- 
ment intellectuelles, idees souvent imparfaites, obscures, fugitives, 
et pour ainsi dire, a demi-ecloses, on n'eprouve que trop combien 
les termes, dont on est force de se servir, sont insuffisans pour ren- 
dre ces idees, et souvent propres a en donner des fausses; rien ne 
seroit done plus raisonnable que de bannir des discussions metaphy- 
siques les expressions figurees, autant qu*il seroit possible. Mais 
pour pouvoir les en bannir entierement, il faudroit creer une langue 
expres, dont les termes ne seroient entendu de personne; le plus court 
est de se servir de la langue commune, en se tenant sur ses gardes 
pour n*en pas abuser dans ses jugenc^ens. (Melanges, tome v. p. 30.) 



Chap. III.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 211 

it appears, that the execution of the design would be 
found, by any person who should attempt it, to be wholly 
impracticable, at least in the present state of metaphysical 
science. If the new nomenclature were coined out of 
merely arbitrary sounds, it would be altogether ludicrous; 
if analogous, in its formation, to that lately introduced 
into chemistry, it would, in all probability, systematize 
a set of hypotheses, as unfounded as those which we are 
anxious to discard. 

Neither of these writers has hit on the only eifectual 
remedy against this inconvenience; — to vary^ from time 
to time, the metaphors we employ, so as to prevent any 
one of them from acquiring an undue ascendant over the 
others, either in our own minds, or in those of our rea- 
ders. It is by the exclusive use of some favourite figure, 
that careless thinkers are gradually led to mistake a simile 
or distant analogy for a legitimate theory. 

For an illustration of this suggestion, which I consider 
as a most important logical rule in prosecuting the study 
of mind, I must refer to my former work. Obvious as it 
may appear, I do not recollect to have met with it in the 
writings of any of my predecessors. It is very possible, 
that in this my memory may deceive me; but one thing 
is certain, that none of them has attemped to exemplify 
it systematically in his own practice. 

After these remarks, it is almost superfluous for me to 
add, that it is, in many cases, a fortunate circumstance, 
when the words we employ have lost their pedigree; or 
(what amounts nearly to the same thing) when it can be 
traced by those alone who are skilled in ancient and info- 
reign languages. Such words have in their favour the 
sanction of immemorial use; and the obscurity of their 



212 ON THE TENDENCY Of SOMfi LATE [Essay V. 

history prevents them from misleading the imagination, 
by recalling to it the sensible objects and phenomena to 
which they owed their origin. The notions, accordingly, 
we annex to them may be expected to be peculiarly pre- 
cise and definite, being entirely the result of those habits 
of induction which I have shewn to be so essentially 
connected with the acquisition of language. 



The philological speculations, to which the foregoing 
criticisms refer, have been prosecuted by various ingeni- 
ous writers, who have not ventured (perhaps, who have 
not meant) to draw from them any inferences in favour 
of materialism. But the obscure hhits frequently thrown 
out, of the momentous conclusions to which Mr. Tooke's 
discoveries are to lead, and the gratulations with which 
they were hailed by the author of Zoonomia, and by other 
physiologists of the same school, leave no doubt with re- 
spect to the ultimate purpose to which they have been 
supposed to be subservient. In some instances, these 
writers express themselves, as if they conceived the phi- 
losophy of the human mind to be inaccessible to '1 who 
have not been initiated in their cabalistical mysteries; and 
sneer at the easy credulity of those who imagine, that the 
substantive spi?it means any thing else than breath; or 
*he adjective right, any thing essentially different from a 
line forming the shortest distance between two points. 
The language of those metaphysicians who have recom- 
mended an abstraction from things external as a necessa- 
ry preparation for studying our intellectual frame, has 



Chap. III.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 213 

been censured as bordering upon enthusiasm, and as cal- 
culated to inspire a childish wonder at a department of 
knowledge, which, to the few who are let into the secret, 
presents nothing above the comprehension of the gram- 
marian and the anatomist. For my own part, I have no 
scruple to avow, that the obvious tendency of these doc- 
trines to degrade the nature and faculties of man in his 
own estimation, seems to me to afford, of itself, a very 
strong presumption against their truth. Cicero considered 
it as an objection of some weight to the soundness of an 
ethical system, that ** it savoured of nothing grand or 
" generous," {nihil magnijicum^ nihil generosum sapit):- — 
Nor was the objection so trifling as it may at first appear; 
for how is it possible to believe, that the conceptions of 
the multitude concerning the duties of life are elevated 
by ignorance or prejudice, to a pitch, which it is the busi- 
ness of reason and philosophy to adjust to a humbler 
aim? From a feeling somewhat similar, I frankly acknow- 
ledge the partiality I entertain towards every theory rela- 
ting to the human mind, which aspires to ennoble its rank 
in the creation. I am partial to it, not merely because it 
flatters an inoffensive, and perhaps not altogether a useless 
pride; but because, in the more sublime views which it 
opens of the universe, I recognize one of the most infaL 
lible characteristics, by which the conclusions of induc- 
tive science are distinguished from the presumptuous fic- 
tions of human folly. 

When I study the intellectual powers of Man, in the 
writings of Hartley, of Priestley, of Darwin, or of Tooke, 
I feel as if I were examining the sorry mechanism that 
gives motion to a puppet. If, for a moment, I am carried 
along by their theories of human knowledge, and of hu= 



214 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay y. 

man life, I seem to myself to be admitted behind the cur- 
tain of what I had once conceived to be a magnificent 
theatre; and, while I survey the tinsel frippery of the ward- 
robe, and the paltry decorations of the scenery, am mor- 
tified to discover the trick which had cheated my eye at 
a distance. This surely is not the characteristic of truth 
or of nature; the beauties of which invite our closest in- 
spection; deriving new lustre from those microscopical 
researches which deform the most finished productions 
of art. If, in our physical inquiries concerning the ma- 
terial world, every step that has been hitherto gained, has 
at once exalted our conceptions of its immensity, and of 
its order, can we reasonably suppose, that the genuine 
philosophy of the Mind is to disclose to us a spectacle 
less pleasing, or less elevating, than fancy or vanity had 
disposed us to anticipate? 

In dismissing this subject, it is, I hope, scarcely neces- 
sary for me to caution my readers against supposing, that 
the scope of the remarks now made, is to undervalue the 
researches of Mr. Tooke and his followers. My wish is 
only to mark out the limits of their legitimate and very 
ample province. As long as the philologer confines him- 
self to the discussions of grammar and of etymology, his 
labours, while they are peculiarly calculated to gratify the 
natural and liberal curiosity of men of erudition, may 
often furnish important data for illustrating the progress 
of laws, of arts, and of manners; — for clearing up obscure 
passages in ancient writers; — or for tracing the migra- 
tions of mankind, in ages of which we have no historical 
records. And although, without the guidance of more stea- 
dy lights than their own, they are more likely to bewilder 
than to direct in the study of the Mind, they may yet (as 



Chap. III.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 215 

I shall attempt to exemplify in the Second Part of this 
Volume) supply many useful materials towards a history 
of its natural progress; — more particularly towards a his- 
tory of Imagination, considered in its relation to the prin- 
ciples of Criticism. But, when the speculations of the 
mere scholar, or glossarist, presume to usurp, as they have 
too often done of late, the honours of Philosophy, and 
that for the express purpose of lowering its lofty pursuits 
to a level with their own, their partisans stand in need of 
the admonition which Seneca addressed to his friend Lu= 
cilius, when he cautioned him against those grammatical 
sophists who, by the frivolous details of their verbal con- 
troversies, had brought discredit on the splendid dispu- 
tations of the stoical school: " Relinque istum ludum li- 
'* terarium philosophorum, qui rem magnificentissimam 
" ad syllabas vocant, qui animum minuta docendo demit- 
" tunt et conterunt, et id agunt ut philosophia potius 
" difficilis quam magna videatur."* 

* Seneca, Epist. 7 1 . — " Abandon this literary pastime, introduced 
" by men who would bring the noblest of all sciences to the test of 
*' words and syllables; who, by the minuteness of their disquisitions, 
" let down the mind and wear out its powers, and seem anxious to 
" invest philosophy with new difficulties, when it ought to have been 
" their aim to display her in «ill her grandeur." 



216 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay »V 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 

Another mistaken idea, which runs through the the- 
ories of some of our late philologers, although of a far 
less dangerous tendency than that which has been just re- 
marked, is yet of sufficient consequence to deserve our 
attention, before we close the present discussion. It 
relates, indeed, to a question altogether foreign to the 
subject of the foregoing essays; but has its origin in an 
error so similar to those which I have been endeavouring 
to correct, than I cannot expect to find a more convenient 
opportunity of pointing it out to the notice of my readers. 
The idea to vvhich I refer is assumed, or, at least, im- 
plied as an axiom, in almost every page of Mr. Tooke's 
work; That, in order to understand with precision, the 
import of any English word, it is necessary to trace its 
progress historically through all the successive meanings 
which it has been employed to convey, from the moment 
that it was first introduced into our language; or if the 
word be of foreign growth, and transmitted to us from 
some dialect of our continental ancestors, that we should 
prosecute the etymological research, till we ascertain the 
literal and primitive sense of the root from whence it 
sprung,* Nor is this idea peculiar to Mr. Tooke. It 

♦ In one passage, he seems to pay some deference to usage; 
" Qiiem penes arbitrium est et jus et norma loquendi;" 
But the whole spirit of his book proceeds on the opposite principle; 
and even in the page to which I allude, he tells us, that " capricious 

2 



Chap.ni.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 217 

forms, in a great measure, the ground- work of a learned 
and ingenious book on French Synonymes, by M. Rou- 
baud; and, if we may judge from the silence of later wri- 
ters, it seems to be now generally acquiesced in, as the 
soundest criterion we can appeal to, in settling the very 
nice disputes to which this class of words have frequently 



given occasion. 



For my own part, I am strongly inclined to think, that 
the instances are few indeed, (if there are, in truth, any 
instances) in which etymology furnishes effectual aids to 
guide us, either in writing with propriety the dialect of our 
own times; or in fixing the exact signification of ambigu- 
ous terms; or in drawing the line between expressions 
which seem to be nearly equivalent. In all such cases, 
nothing can, in my opinion^ be safely trusted to, but that 
habit of accurate and vigilant induction, which, by the 
study of the most approved models of writing and of think- 
ing, elicits gradually and insensibly the precise notions 
which our best authors have annexed to their phraseo- 
logy. It is on this principle that Girard and Beauzee have 
proceeded in all their critical decisions; and, although it 
cannot be denied, that there is often a great deal of false 
refinement in both, they must be allowed the merit of 
pointing out to their successors the only road that could 
conduct them to the truth. In D'Alembert's short but 
masterly sketch on SynonymeSy he has followed precisely 
the same track.* 

How very little advantage is to be gained from etymo- 
logy, in compositions where taste is concerned, may be 

" and mutable fashion has nothing to do in our inquiries into the na- 
** ture of language, and the meaning of words.'* — Vol. 11. p. 95, 
* See note at the end (Q). 

2E 



218 ON I'HE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

inferred from this obvious consideration, That among 
words deriving their origin from the same source, we find 
some ennobled by the usage of one country; while others 
very nearly allied to them, nay, perhaps identical in sound 
and in orthography, are debased by the practice of ano- 
ther. It is owing to this circumstance, that Englishmen, 
and still more Scotchmen, when they begin the study 
of German, are so apt to complain of the deep rooted as« 
sociations which must be conquered, before they are able 
to relish the more refined beauties of style in that parent 
language on which their own has been grafted. 

On the other hand, when a word originally low or ludi- 
crous, has, in consequence of long use, been once enno- 
bled or consecrated, I do not well see what advantage, in 
point of taste, is to be expected from a scrupulous exami» 
nation of its genealogy or of its kindred connections. 
Mr. Tooke has shewn, in a very satisfactory manner, that 
some English words which are now banished, not only 
from solemn discourse, but from decent conversation, are 
very nearly allied, in their origin, to others which rank 
with the most unexceptionable in our language; and he 
seems disposed to ascribe our prejudice against the for» 
mer to ^ false delicacy,'^ I should be glad to know what 
practical inference Mr. Tooke would wish us to draw 
from these discoveries. Is it that the latter should be de- 
graded, on account of the infamy of their connections; or 
that every word which can claim a common descent with 
them from a respectable stem is entided to admission into 
the same society? 

May there not be some risk that, by such etymological 

*Vol. 11. pp. 67 and 134. 



Chap. Ill] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 219 

Studies, when pushed to an excess, and magnified in the 
imagination to an undue importance, the taste may lose 
more in the nicety of its discrimination, than the under- 
standing gains in point of useful knowledge? One thing 
I can state as a fact, confirmed by my own observation, 
so far as it has reached; — that I have hardly met vvidi an 
individual, habitually addicted to them, who wrote his 
own language with ease and elegance. Mr. Tooke himself 
is, indeed, one remarkable exception to the general rule; 
but even with respect to him^ I am inclined to doubt, if 
the style of his composition be improved, since he appear- 
ed with such distinction as the antagonist of Junius, 

Nor will this effect of these pursuits appear surprising, 
when it is considered that their tendency is to substitute 
the doubtful niceties of the philologer and the antiquarian, 
as rules of decision in cases where there is no legitimate 
appeal but to custom and to the ear. Even among those 
who do not carry their researches deeper than the super- 
ficial aspect of our vernacular speech, we know what a 
deceitful guide etymology frequently is, in questions 
about the propriety or impropriety of expression. How 
much more so, when such questions are judged of on 
principles, borrowed from languages which are seldom 
studied by any who have made the cultivation of taste a 
serious object!* 

* " II est si rare que retymologie d'un mot coincide avec sa veri- 
" table acceptation, qu'on ne peut justifier ces sortes de recherches 
" par le pretexte de mieux fixer par-la le sens des mots. Les ecri- 
" vains, qui savent le plus de langues, sont ceux qui commettent le 
" plus d'improprietes. Trop occupes de Tancienne energie d'un 
" terme, ils oublient sa valeur actuelle, et negligent les nuances, qui 
" font la grace et la force du discours." 

See the notes annexed to the ingenious memoir read before the 
Academy of Berlin, by M. de Rivarol; entitled, De VUnivermlitc 
dc la langue Fran^oise. 



220 ON Tte TENDENCY OF SOME LATft [Essay V. 

As an illustration of this, I shall only take notice of the 
absurdities, into which we should inevitably fall, if we 
were to employ the conclusions of the etymologist, as a 
criterion for judging of the propriety of the metaphors in- 
volved in our common forms of speech. In some cases, 
where such metaphors, from their obvious incongruity, 
form real and indisputable blemishes in our language, 
necessity forces us to employ them, from the want of more 
unexceptionable substitutes; and, where this necessity 
exists, it would be mere pedantry to oppose to established 
use the general canons of criticism. My own opinion is, 
that this pedantry has, for many years past, been carried 
farther than the genius of the English tongue will justify, 
and has had a sensible influence in abridging the variety 
of its native stores of expression; but it is only of late that, 
in separating the primitive from the metaphorical mean- 
ings of words, it has become customary for critics to carry 
their refinements farther than the mere English scholar is 
able to accompany them; or to appeal from the authority 
of Addison and Swift, to the w^oods of Germany. * 

The following principle may, I think, be safely adopt- 
ed as a practical rule; that, as mixed metaphors displease 

* The argument against the critical utility of these etymological 
researches might be carried much farther, by illustrating their ten- 
dency, with respect to our poetical vocabulary. The power of this 
(which depends wholly on association) is often increased by the mys- 
tery which hangs over the origin of its consecrated terms; as the 
nobility of a family gains an accession of lustre, when its history is 
lost in the obscurity of the fabulous ages. 

A single instance will at once explain and confirm the foregoing 
remark. — Few words, perhaps, in our language, have been used 
more happily by some of our older poets than Harbinger; more par- 
ticularly by Milton, whose Paradise Lost has rendered even the or- 
ganical sound pleasing to the fancy. 



Chap. Ill] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 221 

solely by the incongruous pictures they present to the 
imagination, they are exceptionable in those cases alone, 
where the words which we combine appear obviously, 
and without a moment's reflection, to have a metaphori- 
cal signification; and, consequently, that when, from long 
use, they cease to be figurative, and become virtually li- 
teral expressions, no argument against their propriety can 
have any weight, so far as it rests on metaphysical or phi- 
lological considerations concerning their primitive roots. 
In such cases, the ear of a person familiarized to the style 
of our standard authors, ought to silence every specula- 
tive argument, how plausible soever it may appear to the 
theorist, in point of etymological verisimilitude. 

In confirmation of this principle, it may be observed, 
that, among our metaphorical expressions, there are some, 
where the literal sense continues to maintain its ascendant 
over the metaphorical; there are others, where the meta- 
phorical has so far supplanted the literal, as to present it- 
self as the more obvious interpretation of the two. 

" And now of love they treat, till th' evening- star, 
" Love's harbinger, appeared.*' 

How powerful are the associations which such a combination of 
ideas must establish in the memory of every reader capable of feeling 
their beauty; and what a charm is communicated to the word, thus 
blended in its effect with such pictures, as those of the evenii^ star, 
and of the loves of our first parentsi 

When I look into Johnson for the etymology of Harbinger^ I find 
it is derived from the Dutch Herberger^ which denotes one who goes 
to provide lodgings or a harbour for those that follow. Whoever 
may thank the author for this conjecture, it certainly will not be the 
lover of Milton's poetry. The injury, however, which is here done 
to the word in question, is slight in comparison of what it would 
have been, if its origin had been traced to some root in our own lan- 
guage equally ignoble, and resembling it as nearly in point of ortho- 
graphy. 



222 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay Y. 

The words acuteness, deliberation^ and sagacity^ are ex- 
amples of the latter sort; — suggesting immediately the 
ideas which they figuratively express; and not even ad- 
mitting of a literal interpretation, without some violence 
to ordinary phraseology. In all such instances, the figura- 
tive origin of the word appears to me to be entitled to no 
attention, in the practice of composition. 

It is otherwise, however, where the literal meaning con- 
tinues to prevail over the metaphorical; and where the 
first aspect of a phrase may, of course, present an unpleas- 
ing combination of things material with things intellectual 
or moral. The verb to handle, as employed in the expres- 
sions—to handle a philosophical question — to handle a 
point of controversy — seems to me to be in this predica- 
ment. It is much used by the old English divines; more 
particularly by those who have been distinguished by the 
name oi puritans; and it is a favourite mode of speaking, 
not only with Lord Karnes in his Elements of Criticism, 
but, with a still higher authority in point of style, Mr. 
Burke, in his book on the Sublime and Beautiful. 

It is, perhaps, owing to some caprice of my own taste, 
but I must acknowledge, that I had always a dislike at 
the word when thus applied; more especially, when the 
subject in question is of such a nature, as to require a 
certain lightness and delicacy of style. For many years 
past, it has been falling gradually into disuse; its place 
being commonly supplied by the verb to treat; — a verb 
which, when traced to its root (tractare) in the Latin lan- 
guage, is precisely of the same import; but which, in con- 
sequence of its less obvious extraction, does not obtrude 
its literal meaning on the imagination, in a manner at all 



Chap. III.] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 223 

offensive. In most cases of the same sort, it will be found 
convenient to avail ourselves of a similar artifice. 

*' It might be expected" (says Burke) " from the fer- 
" tility of the subject, that I should consider poetry, as 
** it regards the sublime and beautiful, more at large; but 
" it must be observed, that in this light it has been often 
*' and well handled already." — In the following sentence, 
the use of the same word strikes me as still more excep- 
tionable: " This seems to me so evident, that I am a good 
" deal surprised that none who have handled the subject 
** have made any mention of the quality of smoothness, 
*' in the enumeration of those that^o to the forming of 
** beauty." 

Upon the very same principle, I am inclined to object 
to the phrase go to, as here employed. I know, that the 
authority of Swift and of Addison may be pleaded in its 
favour; but their example has not been followed by the 
best of our later writers; and the literal meaning of the 
verb GO, when connected with the preposition to, has 
now so decided an ascendant over the metaphorical, as 
to render it at present an awkward mode of expression, 
whatever the case may have been in the days of our an- 
cestors. 

In forming a judgment on questions of this kind, it 
must not be overlooked, whether the expression is used 
as a rhetorical ornament addressed to the fancy; or as a 
sign of thought destined for the communication of know- 
ledge. On the former supposition, it is possible that the 
same phrase may offend; which, on the latter, would not 
only be unexceptionable, but the most simple and natural 
turn of expression which the language supplies. 



224 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

I have elsewhere contrasted some of the opposite per- 
fections of the philosophical, and of the rhetorical or poe- 
tical style. The former, I have observed, accomplishes 
its purposes most effectually, when, like the language of 
algebra, it confines our reasoning faculties to their appro- 
priate province, and guards the thoughts against any dis- 
traction from the occasional wanderings of fancy. How 
different from this is the aim of poetry! Sometimes to 
subdue reason itself by her siren song; and, in all her 
higher efforts, to revert to the first impressions and to 
the first language of nature; — clothing every idea with a 
sensible image, and keeping the fancy for ever on the 
wing. Nor is it sufficient, for this end, to speak by means 
of metaphors or symbols. It is necessary to employ such 
as retain enough of the gloss of novelty to stimulate the 
powers of conception and imagination; and, in the selec- 
tion of words, to keep steadily in view the habitual asso- 
ciations of those upon whom they are destined to operate. 
Hence, to all who cultivate this delightful art, and still 
more to all who speculate concerning its theory, the im- 
portance of those studies which relate to the associating 
principle, and to the history of the human mind, as ex- 
emplified in the figurative mechanism of language. Of 
this remark I intend to offer various illustrations in the 
Essays which are to follow: — but, before entering upon 
any new topics, it yet remains for me to add a few hints, 
which have a more particular reference to style in those 
instances, where the object of the writer is merely to 
attain the merits of perspicuity and simplicity. 

In cases of this last description, the considerations 

which have been already stated lead me to conclude, that 

the general rules which reprobate mixed metaphors, ought 

2 



€hap. IV] PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS., 2^5 

to be interpreted with a greater degree of latitude than 
critics are accustomed to allow. I have heard, for exam- 
ple, the ^hmstjertile source censured more than once, as 
a trespass against these rules. I think I may venture to 
appeal to a great majority of my readers, whether this 
impropriety ever occurred to them, when they have met 
with the phrase, as they often must have done, in the 
best English authors; nay, whether this phrase does not 
strike their ear, as a more natural and obvious combina- 
tion than copious source, which some would substitute in- 
stead of it. Why, then, should we reject a convenient ex- 
pression, which custom has already sanctioned; and, by 
tying ourselves down, in this instance, to the exclusive 
employment of the adjective copious, impoverish the scan- 
ty resources which the English idiom affords for diversi- 
fying our phraseology?^ On the same principle, I would 

* If there is any one English word, which is now become virtually 
literal, in its metaphorical applications, it is the word source. Who 
is it that ever thought of a spring or fountain of water, in speaking 
of God as the source of existence; of the sun as the source of light 
and heat; oi land as one of the sources of national wealth; or of sensa- 
tion and rejiection, as the only sources (according to Locke) of hu- 
man knowledge; — propositions which it would not be easy to enun? 
ciate with equal clearness and conciseness in any other manner? 
The same observation may be extended to the adjective fertile; 
which we apply indiscriminately to a productive ^e/f/; to an inventive 
genius; and even to the mines which supply us with the precious me- 
tals. I cannot therefore see the shadow of a reason why these two words 
should not be joined together in the most correct composition. A 
similar combination has obtained in the French language, in which 
the phrase source feconde has been long sanctioned by tlie highest au- 
thorities. 

It is necessary for me to observe here, that I introduce this and 
other examples of the same kind, merely as illustrations of my 
meaning; and that it is of no consequence to my argument, whether 
my decisions, in particular cases, be right or wrong. 

2F 



226 ON THE TENDENCY OF SOME LATE [Essay V. 

vindicate sruch phrases as the following; — to dwells or to 
enlarge, on a particular point; or on a particular head of 
a discourse; or on a particular branch of an argument. 
Nor do I see any criticism to which they are liable, which 
would not justify the vulgar cavil against golden candle- 
stick, and glass inkhorn; — expressions which it is impos*. 
sible to dispense with, but by means of absurd circum- 
locutions. In these last cases, indeed, the etymology of 
the words leads the attention back to the history of the 
arts, rather than to that of the metaphorical uses of speech; 
but in both instances the same remark holds, that when 
a writer, or a speaker, wishes to express himself plainly 
and perspicuously, it is childish in him to reject phrases 
which custom ha-s consecrated, on account of the incon- 
sistencies which a philological analysis may point out, 
between their primitive import and their popular accep- 
tations. 

In the practical application, I acknowledge, of this ge- 
neral conclusion, it requires a nice tact^ aided by a fami- 
liar acquaintance with the best models, to be able to dc"- 
cide, when a metaphorical word comes to have the effect of 
a literal and specific term; — or, (what amounts to the same 
thing) when it ceases to present its primitive along with 
its figurative meaning: And whenever the point is at all 
doubtful, it is unquestionably safer to pay too much, than 
too little respect, to the common canons of verbal criti- 
cism. All that I wish to establish is, that these canons, if 
adopted without limitations and exceptions, would pro- 
duce a style of composition different from what has been 
. exemplified by the classical authors, either of ancient or 
of modern times; and which no writer or speaker could 
attempt to sustain, without feeling himself perpetually 



CRap. IV.3 PHILOLOGICAL SPECULATIONS. 227 

cramped by fetters, inconsistent with the freedom, the 
variety, and the grace of his expression.* 

If these remarks have any foundation in truth, when ap- 
pUed to questions which fall under the cognizance of 
illiterate judges, they conclude with infinitely greater 
force in favour of established practice, when opposed 
merely by such arcuna as have been brought to light by 
the researches of the scholar or the antiquary. Consider- 
ing, indeed, the metaphorical origin of by far the greater 
proportion of words in every cultivated language, (a fact 
which Mr. Tooke's ingenious speculations have now 
placed in a point of view so peculiarly luminous), etymo- 
logy, if systematically adopted as a test of propriety, 
would lead to the rejection of all our ordinary modes of 
speaking; without leaving us the possibility of communi- 
cating to each other our thoughts and feelings, in a man- 
ner not equally liable to the same objections. 

* The following maxim does honour to the good sense and good 
taste of Vaugelas. — " Lorsqu'une fa9on de parler est usilee des bons 
" auteurs, il ne faut pas s'amuser a en faire ranatomie,ni apointiller 
*' dessus, comme font une infinite de gens; mais il faut se laisser em- 
" porter au torrent, et parler comme les autres, sans daigner ecoutei^ 
^^ ces eplucheurs de phrases." 



END OF PART FIRST. 



PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS 
PART SECOND. 



PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS, 

PART SECOND» 



ESSAY FIRST. 

ON THE BEAUTIFUI- 



INTRODUCTION, 

IN the volume which I have already published on tile 
Philosophy of the Human Mind, when I have had occa- 
sion to speak of the Pleasures of Imagination^ I have em- 
ployed that phrase to denote the pleasures which arise 
from ideal creations or combinations, in contradistinction 
to those derived from the realities which human life pre- 
sents to our senses. Mr. Addison, in his well-known and 
justly admired papers on this subject, uses the same words 
in a more extensive acceptation; to express the pleasures 
which beauty, greatness, or novelty, excite in the mind, 
when presented to it, either by the powers of perception, 
or by the faculty of imagination; distinguishing these two 
classes of agreeable effects, by calling the one primary^ 
and the other secondary pleasures. As I propose to con- 
fine myself, in this Essay, to Beauty, the first of the three 
qualities mentioned by Addison, it is unnecessary for me 
to inquire, how far his enumeration is complete; or how- 
far his classification is logical. But, as I shall have fre 



23'2 ON THE BEAUTIFUL, [Essay L 

quently occasion, in the sequel, to speak of the Pleasures 
of Imagination^ I must take the liberty of remarking, in 
vindication of my own phraseology, that philosophical pre- 
cision indispensably requires an exclusive limitation of 
that title to what Mr. Addison calls secondary pleasures; 
because, although ultimately founded on pleasures deri- 
ved from our perceptive powers, they are yet (as will 
afterwards appear) characterized by some very remarka- 
ble circumstances, peculiar to themselves. It is true, that 
when we enjoy the beauties of a certain class of external 
objects, (for example, those of a landscape,) imagination 
is often, perhaps always, more or less busy; but the case 
is the same with various other intellectual principles, 
which must operate, in a greater or less degree, wherever 
men are to be found? such principles, for instance, as the 
association of ideas; — sympathy with the enjoy meats of 
animated beings;— -or a speculative curiosity concerning 
the uses 3.ud Jitnesses, and systematical relations which are 
everywhere conspicuous in nature;* and, therefore, to 
refer to imagination alone, our perception of these beau- 
ties, together with all the various enjoyments, both intel- 
lectual and moral, which accompany it, is to sanction, by 
our very definitions, a partial and erroneous theory. I 
shall, accordingly, in this and in the following essays, con-« 
tinue to use the same language as formerly; separating, 
wherever the phenomena in question will admit of such 
a separation, the pleasures we receive immediately by 

* To these principles must be added, in such a state of society as 
ours, the numberless acquired habits of observation and of thought, 
which diversify the effects of the very same perceptions in the minds 
of the painter; of the poet; of the landscape-gardener; of the farmer; 
of the civil or the military engineer; of the geological theorist, «&c. 
&c. 5cc. 

•2 



Essay I.J ON THE BE/IUTIFUL. 233 

our senses, from those which depend on ideal combina- 
tions formed by the intellect.* 

Agreeably to this distinction, I propose, in treating of 
Beauty, to begin with considering the more simple and 
general principles on which depend the pleasures that we 
experience in the case of actual perception; after which, 
I shall proceed to investigate the sources of those specific 
and characteristical charms whicli imagination lends tq 
her own productions. 

* What Mr. Addison has called the Pleasures of Imagination, 
might be denominated, more correctly, the pleasures we receive 
from the objects of Taste; a power of the mind which is equally 
conversant with the pleasures arising from sensible things, and with 
such as result from the creations of human genius. 



2G 



ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 

PART FIRST. 

ON THE BEAUTIFUL, WHEN PRESENTED IMMEDI- 
ATELY TO OUR SENSES. 



CHAPTER FIRST. 

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SUBJECT OF INQUIRY, AND ON THE 
PLAN UPON WHICH IT IS PROPOSED TO EXAMINE IT, 

1 HE word Beauty, and, I believe, the corresponding 
term in all languages whatever, is employed in a great 
variety of acceptations, which seem, on a superficial view, 
to have very little connection with each other; and among 
which it is not easy to trace the slightest shade of common 
or coincident meaning. It always, indeed, denotes some- 
thing which gives not merely pleasure to the mind, but a 
certain r ejined sptc'iGs of pleasure, remote from those gros- 
ser indulgences which are common to us with the brutes; 
but it is not applicable universally in every case where 
such refined pleasures are received; being confined to 
those exclusively which form the proper objects of intel- 
lectual Taste. We speak of beautiful colours, beautiful 
forms, beautiful pieces of music:* We speak also of the 

* " There is nothing singular in applying the word beautij to 
" sounds. The ancients observe the peculiar dignity of die senses 



Chap. I.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 255 

beauty of virtue; of the beauty of poetical composition; of 
the beauty of style in prose; of the beauty of a mathema- 
tical theorem; of the beauty of a philosophical discovery. 
On the other hand, we do 7iot speak of beautiful tastes, 
or of beautiful smells; nor do we apply this epithet 
to the agreeable softness, or smoothness, or warmth of 
tangible objects, considered solely in their relation to our 
sense of feeling.f Still less would it be consistent with the 
common use of language, to speak of the beauty of high 
birth, of the beauty of a large fortune, or of the beauty of 
extensive renown. 
" It has long been a favourite problem with philosophers, 
to ascertain the common quality or qualities, which enti- 
tles a thing to the denomination of beautiful; but the 
success of their speculations has been so inconsiderable, 
that little can be inferred from them but the impossibility 
of the problem to which they have been directed. The 
author of the article Beau in the French Encyclopediey^' 
after some severe strictures on the solutions proposed by 
his predecessors, is led, at last, to the following conclu- 
sions of his own, which he announces with all the pomp 
of discovery; — *' That beauty consists in the perceptions 
*' of relations." — " Place beauty in the perception of r^- 

"of seeing and hearing; that in their objects we discern the K^Xa? 
" which we don't ascribe to the objects of the other senses."—* 
Hutcheson's Inquiry into Beauty and Virtue, Sect 2, § 14. 

t See Note (R). 

* Diderot, if my memory does not deceive me. — I do not refer to 
this theory on account of its merit, for, in that point of view, it is 
totally unworthy of notice; but because the author has stated more 
expUcitly than any other whom I can at present recollect, the fun- 
damental principle on which his inquiries have proceeded; a princi- 
ple common to him with all the other theorists on the same subject- 
of whom I have any knowledge. 



236 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay 1 

** lationsy and you will have the history of its progress 
" from the infancy of the world to the present hour. On the 
*' other hand, choose for the distinguishing characteristic 
" of the beautiful in general, any other quality you can 
" possibly imagine, and you will immediately find your 
" notion limited in its applications, to the modes of think- 
** ing prevalent in particular countries, or at particular 
" periods of time.^ The perception of relations is there- 
" fore the foundation of the beautiful; and it is this per- 
*' ception which, in different languages, has been expres- 
" sed by so many different names, all of them denoting 
" different modifications of the same general idea>" 

The same writer, in another article, defines Beauty " to 
" be the power of exciting in us the perception of agree- 
*' able relations;'''^ to which definition, he adds the follow- 
ing clause: *' I have said agreeable, in order to adapt my 
*' language to the general and common acceptation of the 
" term beauty; but I believe, that, philosophically speak- 
'^ ing, every object is beautiful which is fitted to excite 
'^ in us the perception q{ relations, ^^ On these passages I 
have nothing to offer, in the way either of criticism or 
of comment; as I must fairly acknowledge my incapacity 
to seize the idea which the author means to convey. To 
say that *' beauty consists in the perception of relations,'* 
without specifying what these relations are; and afterwards, 
to qualify these relations by the epithet agreeable, in de- 
ference to popular prejudices, -^"woxxXd infer, that this word 

* This is the only intelligible interpretation I am able to put on the 
original. The strictly literal version is: — " You will find your notion 
" concentrated in some point of space and of time." (Votre notion 
se trouvera tout-a-coup concentree dans un point de Tespace et dr, 
tems.) 



Chap. I.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 237 

is philosophically applicable to all those objects which are 
vulgarly denominated deformed or ugly; inasmuch as a 
total want of symmetry and proportion in the parts of an 
object does not, in the least, diminish the number of rela- 
tions perceived: not to mention, that the same definition 
would exclude from the denomination of beautiful all the 
different modifications oi colour; as well as various other 
qualities which, according to the common use of lan- 
guage, fall unquestionably under that description. On 
the other hand, if the second, and more restricted defini- 
tion be adhered to, (that " beauty consists in the percep- 
" tion of such relations as are agreeable ^^'') no progress is 
made towards a solution of the difficulty. To inquire 
what the relations are which are agreeable to the mind, 
would, on this supposition, be only the original problem 
concerning the nature of the Beautiful, proposed in a dif~ 
ferent, and more circuitous form. 

The speculations which have given occasion to these 
remarks have evidently originated in a prejudice, which 
has descended to modern times from the scholastic ages; 
— that when a word admits of a variety of significations^ 
these different significations must all be species of the 
same genus; and must consequently include some essen- 
tial idea common to every individual to which the generic 
term can be applied. In the article just quoted, this pre- 
judice is assumed as an indisputable maxim. " Beautiful 
*' is a term which we apply to an infinite variety of things; 
"but, by whatever circumstances these may be distin- 
** guished from each other, it is certain, either that we 
*^* make a false application of the word, or that there ex^ 



^38 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Esyay I. 

" ists, in all of them, a common quality, of which the 
" term Beautiful is the sign."* 

Of this principle, which has been an abundant source 
of obscurity and mystery in the different sciences, it would 
be easy to expose the unsoundness and futility; but, on 
the present occasion, I shall only remind my readers of 
the absurdities into which it led the Aristotelians on the 
subject of causation; — the ambiguity of the word, which, 
in the Greek language, corresponds to the English word 
cause ^ having suggested to them the vain attempt of 
tracing the common idea which, in the case of any effect^ 
belongs to the efficient^ to the matter^ to the form^ and 
to the end. The idle generalities we meet with in other 
philosophers, about tlie ideas of the good, th^ Jit, and the 
becoming, have taken their rise from the same undue 
influence of popular epithets on the speculations of the 
learned. 

Socrates, whose plain good sense appears in this, as in 
various other instances, to have fortified his understand- 
ing to a wonderful degree, against the metaphysical sub- 
tilties which misled his successors, was evidently apprised 
fully of the justness of the foregoing remarks; — -if any 
reliance can be placed on the account given by Xenophon 
of his conversation with Aristippus about the Good and 
the Beautiful. " Aristippus (we are told) having asked 
" him, if he knew any thing that was good?" — " do you 
*^ ask me (said Socrates) if I know any thing good for a 

* Beau est nn terme que nous appliquons a une infinite d'etres. 
Mais, quelque difference qu'il y ait entre ces etres, il faut, ou que 
nous fassions une fausse application du terme deau; ou qu'il y ait 
dans tous ces etres une qualite dont le terme beau soit le signe. 



Cliap.I.j ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 239 

''^ fever y or for an inflammation in the eyes^ or as a pre- 
" servative against 2c famine?'''' 

" By no means, returned the other." — " Nay, then, 
'* (replied Socrates,) if you ask me concerning a good 
" which is good for nothings I know of none such; nor 
**yet do I desire to know it." 

Aristippus still urging him — " but do you know (said 
*'.he) any thing Beautiful?" 

" A great many," returned Socrates. 

" Are these all like to one another?" 

'* Far from it, Aristippus^ there is a very considerable 
" difference between them." 

" But how (said Aristippus) can beauty differ from heau- 
" tyP''^ — The question plainly proceeded on the same 
supposition which is assumed in the passage quoted above 
from Diderot; a supposition founded (as I shall endeavour 
to shew) on a total misconception of the nature of the cir- 
cumstances, which, in the history of language, attach dif- 
ferent meanings to the same words; and which often, by 
slow and insensible gradations, remove them to such a 
distance from their primitive or radical sense, that no in- 
genuity can trace the successive steps of their progress. 
The variety of these circumstances is, in fact, so great^ 
that it is impossible to attempt a complete enumeration 
of them; and I shall, therefore, select a few of the cases, in 
which the principle now in question appears most obvi- 
ously and indisputably to fail. 

I shall begin with supposing, that the letters A, B, C, 
D, E, denote a series of objects; that A possesses some 
one quality in common with B; B a quality in common 

* Translation of the Memorabilia^ by Mrs. Fielding-. 



240 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay 1. 

with C; C a quality in common with D; D a quality in 
common with E; — while, at the same time, no quality 
can be found which belongs in common to any three ob- 
jects in the series. Is it not conceivable, that the affinity 
between A and B may produce a transference of the 
name of the first to the second; and that, in consequence 
of the other affinities which connect the remaining objects 
together, the same name may pass in succession from B 
to C; from C to D; and from D to E? In this manner, 
a common appellation will arise between A and E, al- 
though the two objects may, in their nature and proper- 
ties, be so widely distant from each other, that no stretch 
of imagination can conceive how the thoughts were led 
from the former to the latter. The transitions, neverthe- 
less, may have been all so easy and gradual, that, were 
they successfully detected by the fortunate ingenuity of 
a theorist, we should instantly recognize, not only the 
verisimilitude, but the truth of the conjecture; — in the 
same way as we admit, with the confidence of intuitive 
conviction, the certainty of the well-known etymological 
process which connects the Latin preposition e or ex 
with the English substantive stranger^ the moment that 
the intermediate links of the chain are submitted to our 
examination.* 

* E, ex, extra, extraneus, etrant^er, stranger. 

The very same prejudice which I have now been attempting to 
refute will be found to be at the bottom of many of Mr. Topke's 
speculations concerning language. — " Johnson (he observes in the 
•• beginning of his second volume) is as bold and profuse in assertion, 
" as he is shy and sparing in explanation. He says, that right 
" means — true. Again, that it means — fiassing true judgment; and— - 
^^ passing a judgment according to the truth of thirigs. Again, that it 
" means — hapjiy. And again, that it means — perpendicular. And 
^■^ again, that it means— era a great degree'' 

" All 
2 



Qhap. I.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 241 

These observations may, I hope, throw some additional 
light on a distinction pointed out by Mr. Knight, in his 
Analytical Inquiry into the Principles of Taste, between 
the transitive and the metaphorical meanings of a word, 
** As all epithets" (he remarks) " employed to distinguish 
* Equalities perceivable only by intellect, were originally 
'* applied to objects of sense, the primary words in all 
" languages belong to them; and are, therefore, applied 
" transitively y though not always figuratively to objects 
** of intellect or imagination."* 

The distinction appears to me to be equally just and 
important; and as the epithet transitive expresses clearly 
and happily the idea which I have been attempting to 
convey by the preceding illustration, I shall make no 
scruple to adopt it in preference to figurative or meta- 
phoricaly wherever I may find it better adapted to my 
purpose, in the farther prosecution of this subject. It 
may not be altogether superfluous to add, that I use the 
word transitive 2iS the generic term, and metaphorical ^^ 
the specific; every metaphor being necessarily a transitive 
expression, although there are many transitive expres- 
sions, which can, with no propriety, be said to be meta- 
phorical, 

A French author of the highest rank, both as a mathe- 
matician and as a philosopher, (M. D'Alembert) had 

" All false, (Mr. Tooke adds) absurd, and impossible.** (Vol. ii. 
p. 5.) 

How far the epithets false and absurd are justly applied in this 
instance, I do not presume to decide; but if there be any foundation 
for the preceding remarks, I certainly may be permitted to ask, 
upon what ground Mr. Tooke has concluded his climax with the 
word imfiossible? 

* Analyt. Inquiry, Sec. p, 1 1, 3d edition. 

2H 



242 ox THE BEALTIFQL. [Essay I. 

plainly the same distinction in his view, when he observ- 
ed, that, beside the appropriate and the figurative mean- 
ings of a word, there is another (somewhat intermediate 
between the former two,) which may be called its mean- 
ing par extension. In the choice of this phrase, he has 
certainly been less fortunate than Mr. Knight; but, as he 
has enlarged upon his idea at some length, and with his 
usual perspicuity and precision, I shall borrow a few of 
his leading remarks, as the best comment I can offer on 
what I have already stated; taking the liberty only, to 
substitute in my version, the epithet transitive instead of 
the phrase par extension^ v/herever the latter may occur 
in the original. 

" Grammarians are accustomed to distinguish two sorts 
*' of meaning in words; first, the literal, original or primi- 
** tive meaning; and, secondly, the figurative or metapho- 
" rical meaning, in which the former is transferred to an 
*' object to which it is not naturally adapted. In the 
*' phrases, for example, V eclat dela himiere, and P eclat de 
" la vertu, the word eclat is first employed literally, and 
'' afterwards figuratively. But, besides these, there is a 
'* sort of intermediate meaning, which may be distinguish- 
" ed by the epithet transitive. Thus, when I say, V eclat 
" de la luiniere^ V eclat du son, I' eclat de lu vertu, the word 
*' eclat is applied transitively from li^^ht to noise; from the 
" sense of sight to which it properly belongs, to that of 
*' hearings with which it has no original connection. It 
'• would, at the same time, be incorrect to say, that the 
'' phrase V eclat du son, is figurative; inasmuch as this last 
'- epithet implies the application to some intellectual no- 
*• tion, of a word at first appropriated to an object of the 
*' external senses." 



Chap. I] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 24S 

After illustrating this criticism by various other exam- 
ples, the author proceeds thus: " There is not, perhaps, 
*' in the French language, a single word susceptible of 
'' various interpretations, of which the different meanings 
** may not all be traced from one common root, by ex, 
*' amining the manner in which the radical idea has pas- 
" sed, by slight gradations, into the other senses in which 
*' the word is employed: And it would, in my opinion, 
*' be an undertaking equally philosophical and useful, to 
" mark, in a dictionary, all the possible shades of signifi- 
" cation belonging to the same expression, and to exhibit, 
" in succession, the easy transitions by which the mind 
*' might have proceeded from the first to the last term of 
** the series."* 

In addition to these excellent remarks, (which I do not 
recollect to have seen referred to by any succeeding wri- 
ter) I have to observe farther, that, among the innumer- 
able applications of language which fail under the general 
title of transitive^ there are many which are the result of 
local or of casual associations; while others have their 
origin in the constituent principles of human nature, or in 
the universal circumstances of the human race. The for- 
mer seem to have been the transitions which D'Alembert 
had in his view in the foregoing quotation; and to trace 
them belongs properly to the compilers of etymological 
and critical dictionaries. The latter form a most interest- 
ing object of examination to all who prosecute the study 
of the human mind; more particularly, to those who wish 
to investigate the principles of philosophical criticism. A 

* Eclaircissemens sur les Elemens de Philosophic, § ix. 



244 ON THE BEAUTIFUlu. [Essay I. 

few slight observations on both may be useful, in prepar- 
ing the way for the discussions which are to follow. 

1. That new applications of words have been frequently 
suggested by habits of association peculiar to the indivi- 
duals by whom they were first introduced, or resulting 
naturally from the limited variety of ideas presented to 
them in the course of their professional employments, is 
matter of obvious and common remark. The genius even 
of some languages^ has been supposed to be thus affected 
by the pursuits which chiefly engrossed the attention of 
the nations by which they were spoken; the genius of the 
Latin, for instance, by the habitual attention of the Ro- 
mans to military operations;'* that of the Dutch by the 
early and universal familiarity of the inhabitants of Hol- 
land with the details connected with inland navigation, or 
with a sea-faring life. It has been remarked by several 
writers, that the Latin word intervallum^ was evidently 
borrov/ed from the appropriate phraseology of a camp; 
inter vallos spatiiim, — the space between the stakes or 
palisades, which strengthened the rampart. None of them, 
however, has taken any notice of the insensible transitions 
hy which it came successively to be employed in a more 
enlarged sense; first, to express a limited portion of longi- 
tudinal extension in general; and afterwards limited por- 
tions of time as w^ell as of space.f *' Ut quoniam inter- 

* " Medium in agmen, in pulverem, in clamorem, in castra, atque 
*' aciem forensem." — Cic. de Oralore. 

t How remote are some of the following applications of the woi^(^ 
from its primitive meaning !^ — 

" Numernm in cadentibus guttis, quod intcrvallis distinguuntur, 
»* notare possumus/* — Cic. de Orat. 

" Dolor si longus, leyis: dat enim intervalla et relaxat.'* — Cic. 
'' Acad. 

<' Vide 



Chap. 1.3 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 245 

" vallo locorum et temporutn disjuncti sumus^ per literas 
" tecum quam sceplssime colloquar,^'^ The s^tmc word has 
passed mto our language; and it is not a little remarkable, 
that it is now so exclusively appropriated to Wne^ that to 
speak of the interval between two places would be cen- 
sured as a mode of expression not agreeable to common 
use. Etymologies of this sort are, when satisfactory, or 
even plausible, amusing and instructive: but when we 
consider how very few the cases are, in which we have 
access thus to trace words to their first origin, it must 
appear manifest, into what absurdities the position of the 
Encyclopedists is likely to lead those who shall adopt it as 
a maxim of philosophical investigation.* 

Other accidents, more capricious still, sometimes ope- 
rate on language; as when a word is transferred from one 
object or event, to another, merely because they happened 
both to engross public attention at the same period. The 
names applied to different colours, and to different arti- 
cles of female dress, from the characters most prominent 
at the moment in the circles of fashion, afford sufficient 
instances of this species of association. 

" Vide quantum intervallum sit interjectum inter majorum nos- 
^' trorum consilia, et istorum dementiam.'* — Cic. pro Rab. 

" Neque quisquam hoc Scipione eiegantius intervalla negotiorum 
" otio dispunxit." — Paterc. 

* A considerable number of the idiomatical turns of French ex- 
pression have been traced to the ceremonial of Tournaments; to the 
sports of the field; and to the active exercises which formed the 
chief amusement of the feudal nobility. See a Dissertation on Gal- 
licisms (strongly marked with the ingenuity and refined taste of the 
author) by M. Suard, of the French Academy. Similar remarks 
may be extended to the English Tongue; on examining which, how- 
ever, it will be found, (as might be expected a priori^) that the 
sources of its idiomatical and proverbial phrases are incomparably 
more diversified than those of the French, 



^46 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay t 

But, even where the transference cannot be censured 
as at all capricious, the application of the maxim iri ques- 
tion will be found equally impracticable. This, I appre- 
hend, happens in all the uses of language suggested by 
analogy; as when we speak of the morning of our days; 
of the chequered condition of human life; of the lights of 
science; or of the rise and the fall of empires. In all these 
instances, the metaphors are happy and impressive; but 
whatever advantages the poet or the orator may derive 
from them, the most accurate analysis of the diiferent sub- 
jects thus brought into contact, will never enable the 
philosopher to form one new conclusion concerning the 
nature either of one or of the other. I mention this par- 
ticularly, because it has been too little attended to by those 
who have speculated concerning the powers of the mind. 
The words which denote these powers are all borrowed 
(as I have already observed repeatedly) from material ob- 
jects, or from physical operations; and it seems to have 
been very generally supposed, that this implied something 
common in the nature or attributes of mind and of matter. 
Hence the real origin of those analogical theories concern- 
ing the former, which, instead of advancing our know- 
ledge with respect to it, have operated more powerfully 
than any other circumstances whatever, to retard the pro- 
gress of that branch of science. 

There are, however, no cases, in which the transfer, 
ences of words are more remarkable, than when the mind 
is strongly influenced, either by pleasurable or by painful 
sensations. The disposition we have to combine the causes 
of these, even when they arise from the accidental state 
of our own imagination or temper, with the external ob- 
jects presented simultaneously to our organs of percep- 



Chap. I.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 247 

tion; and the extreme difficulty, wherever our perceptions 
are complex, of connecting the effect with the particular 
circumstances on which it really depends, must necessa- 
rily produce a wide difference in the epithets which are 
employed by different individuals, to characterize the 
supposed sources of the pleasures and pains which they 
experience. These epithets, too, will naturally be borrow- 
ed from other more familiar feelings, to which they bear, 
or are conceived to bear some resemblance; and hence a 
peculiar vagueness and looseness in the language we use 
on all such subjects, and a variety in the established 
modes of expression, of which it is seldom possible to 
give a satisfactory explanation. 

2. But although by far the greater part of the transi- 
tive or derivative applications of words depend on casual 
and unaccountable caprices of the feelings or of the fancy, 
there are certain cases in which they open a very inter> 
csting field of philosophical speculation. Such are those, 
in which an analogous transference of the corresponding 
term may be remarked universally, or very generally, in 
other languages; and in which, of course, the uniformity 
of the result must be ascribed to the essential principles 
of the human frame. Even in such cases, however, it 
will by no means be always found, on examination, that 
the various applications of the same term have arisen 
from any common quality, or qualities in the objects to 
which they relate. In the greater number of instances, 
they may be traced to some natural and universal associa- 
tions of ideas, founded in the common faculties, common 
organs, and common condition of the human race; and 
an attempt to investigate by what particular process this 
uniform result has been brought about, on so great a 



248 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

variety of occasions, while it has no tendency to involve 
us in the unintelligible abstractions of the schools, can 
scarcely fail to throw some new lights on the history of 
the human mind. 

I shall only add, at present, upon this preliminary topic, 
that, according to the diflPerent degrees of intimacy and 
of strength in the associations on which the transitions 
of language are founded, very different effects may be 
expected to arise. Where the association is slight and 
casual, the several meanings will remain distinct from 
each other, and will often, in process of time, assume the 
appearance of capricious varieties in the use of the same 
arbitrary sign. Where the association is so natural and 
habitual, as to become virtually indissoluble, the transitive 
meanings will coalesce into one complex conception; and 
every new transition will become a more comprehensive 
generalization of the term in question. 

With these views, I now proceed to offer a few obser- 
vations on the successive generalizations of that word of 
which it is the chief object of this Essay to illustrate the 
import. In doing so, I would by no means be understood 
to aim at any new theory on the subject; but only to point 
out what seems to me to be the true plan on which it ought 
to be studied. If, in the course of this attempt, I shall be 
allowed to have struck into the right path, and to have 
suggested some useful hints to my successors, I shall feel 
but little solicitude about the criticisms to which I may 
expose myself, by the opinions I am to hazard on inci- 
dental or collateral questions, not essentially connected 
with my general design. 



Chap. H 1 aN THE BEAUTIFUL 249 



CHAPTER SECOND. 

PROGRESSIVE GENERALIZATIONS OF THE WORD BEAUTY, RESULTING 
FROM THE NATURAL PROGRESS OF THE MIND. — BEAUTY OF CO- 
LOURS OF FORMS OF MOTION. COMBINATIONS OF THESE.-^ 

UNIFORMITY IN WORKS OF ART, BEAUTY OF NATURE. 

Notwithstanding the great variety of quali- 
ties, physical, intellectual, and moral, to which the word 
beauty is applicable, I believe it will be admitted, that, in 
its primitive and most general acceptation, it refers to ob- 
jects of sight. As the epithets sweet and delicious literally 
denote what is pleasing to the palate, and harmonious 
what is pleasing to the ear; as the epithets soft and warm 
denote certain qualities that are pleasing in objects of 
touch or of feeling; — so the epithet heautifulX\\.tx2^'^ de- 
notes what is pleasing to the eye. All these epithets, too, 
it is worthy of remark, are applied transitively to the per- 
ceptions of other senses. We speak of sxveet and o^ soft 
sounds; o^warm, of delicious, and of harmonious colourings 
wiih as little impropriety, as of a beautiful voice, or of a 
beautiful piece of music. Mr. Burke, himself, has some- 
where spoken of the soft green of the souL If the transitive 
applications of the word beauty be more numerous and 
more heterogeneous than those of the words szveetnesSf 
softness, and harmony, is it not probable that some ac- 
count of this peculiarity may be derived from the com- 
parative multiplicity of those perceptions of which the 
eye is the common organ? Such, accordingly, is the very 
simple principle on which the following speculations pro- 

21 



250 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay L 

ceed; and which it is the chief aim of these speculations 
to establish. In prosecuting the subject, however, I shall 
not fetter myself by any regular plan, but shall readily 
give way to whatever discussions may naturally arise, 
either from my own conclusions, or from the remarks I 
may be led to offer on the theories of others. 

The first ideas of beauty formed by the mind, are, in all 
probability, derived from colours,^ Long before infants 
receive any pleasures from the beauties of form or of mo- 
tion, (both of which require, for their perception, a cer- 
tain effort of attention and of thought) their eye may be 
caught and delighted with brilliant colouring, or with 
splendid illumination. I am inclined, too, to suspect, that 
in the judgment of a peasant, this ingredient of beauty 
predominates over every other, even in his estimate of 
the perfections of the female form;f and, in the inanimate 
creation, there seems to be little else which he beholds 
with any rapture. It is, accordingly, from the effect pro- 

* It is, according] y, upon this assumption that I proceed in tracings 
the progressive generalizations of these ideas; but the intelligent 
reader will immediately perceive, that this supposition is not essen- 
tially necessary to my argument. Supposing the first ideas of beauty 
to be derived from forms^ the general conclusions which I wish to 
establish would have been precisely the same. In the case of a 
blind man, whatever notions he attaches to the word beautiful (which 
I believe to be very different from ours) must necessarily originate 
in the perception of such forms or shapes as are agreeable to his 
sense of touch; combined, perhaps, with the grateful sensations con- 
nected with softness, smoothness, and warmth. If the view of the 
subject which has occurred to me be just, an easy explanation may 
be deduced from it, of the correct and consistent use of poetical lan- 
guage, in speaking of objects of sight, by such a writer as the late 
Dr. Blacklock. 

i^The opinion of Shenstone, on a point of this sort, is of some 
weight. " It is probable" (he observes) " that a clown would require 
" more colour in his Chloe's face than a courtier." 



Ghap. II.3 ON THE REAUTIFUL. 251 

duced by the rich paindng of the clouds, when gilded by 
a setting sun, that Akenside infers the existence of the 
seeds of taste, where it is impossible to trace them to any 
hand but that of nature. 

" Ask the swain 
"Who journeys homewards from a suramer-day'b 
*' Lonpj labour, why, forj^-etful of his toils, 
" And due repose, he loiters to behold 
« The sunshine gleaming, as through amber clouds. 
" O'er all the western sky; full soon, I ween, 
" His rude expression, and untutor'd airs, 
" Beyond the power of language, will unfold 
" The form of beauty smiling at his heart." 

Nor is it only in the judgment of the infant or of the 
peasant, that colours rank high among the constituents of 
the beautiful The spectacle alluded to by Akenside, in 
the foregoing lines, as it forms the most pleasing of any 
to the untutored mind, so it continues, after the experi- 
ence of a life spent in the cultivation of taste, to retain its 
undiminished attractions: I should rather say, retains all 
its first attractions, heightened by many stronger ones of 
a moral nature. 

" Him have we seen, the greenwood side along, 
" As o'er the heath we hied, our labour done, 
« Oft as the wood-lark piped his evening song, 
" With wishful eye pursue the setting sun." 

Such is one of the characteristical features in a portrait, 
sketched for himself, by the exquisite pencil of Gray; 
presenting an interesting counterpart to what he has else- 
where said of the poetical visions which delighted his 
childhood. 



^252 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

" Oft before his infant eye would run 
" Such forms as glitter in the muse's ray, 
" With orient hues/' 

" Among the several kinds of beauty," (says Mr. Ad- 
*' dison) the eye takes most delight in colours. We nowhere 
*' meet with a more glorious or pleasing shew in nature, 
" than what appears in the heavens, at the rising and set- 
" ting of the sun, which is wholly made up of those dif- 
'' ferent stains of light, that shew themselves in clouds of 
*' a different situation. For this reason we find the poets, 
** who are always addressing themselves to the imagina- 
** tion, dorrowing more of their epithets from colours than 
^^from any other topic,'^'"^ 

From the admiration of colours^ the eye gradually ad- 
vances to that of forms; beginning first with such as are 
most obviously regular. Hence the pleasure which chil- 
dren, almost without exception, express, when they see 
gardens laid out after the Dutch manner; and hence the 
justness of the epithet childish^ or puerile^ which is com- 
monly employed to characterize this species of taste; — 
one of the earliest stages of its progress both in indivi- 
duals and in nations. 

When, in addition to the pleasures connected with 
colours^ external objects present those which arise from 
certain modifications oiform^ the same name wdll be na- 
turally applied to both the causes of the mixed emotion. 
The emotion appears, in point of fact, to our conscious- 
ness, simple and uncompounded, no person being able 
to say, while it is felt, how much of the effect is to ht 
ascribed to either cause, in preference to the other; and it 

* Spectator, No. 412. 



Chap, n.j ON THE BEAUTIFOL. 253 

is the philosopher alone, who ever thinks of attempting, 
by a series of observations and experiments, to accom- 
plish such an analysis. The following expressions of Vir- 
gil shew how easily the fancy confounds these two ingre- 
dients of the beautiful under one common epithet. '' Edera 
^'formosior alba,'*^ *' formose puer^ nimium ne crede 
" coloriy That the adjective yor/wo^e/^ originally referred 
to the beauty oi form alone, is manifest from its etymo- 
logy; and yet it would appear that, even to the correct 
taste of Virgil, it seemed no less applicable to the beauty 
of colour. 

In another passage the same epithet is employed, by the 
same poet, as the most comprehensive which the language 
afforded, to describe the countless charms of nature, in 
the most beautiful season of the year: 

" Et nunc omnis ager, nunc omnis parturit arbos; 
" Nunc frondent sylvas, nunc formosissimus annus." 

Similar remarks may be extended to the word Beauty, 
when applied to motion, a species of beauty which may be 
considered as in part a modification of that oiform; being 
perceived when a pleasing outline is thus sketched, or 
traced out, to the spectator's fancy. The beauty of motion 
has, however, beside this, a charm peculiar to itself; more 
particularly, when exhibited by an animated being; above 
all, when exhibited by an individual of our own species. 
In these cases, it produces that powerful eiFect, to the un- 
known cause of which we give the name of ^race-;— an 
effect which seems to depend, in no inconsiderable degree, 
on the additional interest which the pleasing form derives 
from its fugitive and evanescent existence; the memory 
dwelling fondly on the charm which has fled, while the 



254 ON THE BEAmiFUL. [Essay 1 

eye is fascinated with the expectation of what is to follow. 
A fascination,- somewhat analogous to this, is experienced 
when we look at the undulations of a flag streaming to the 
wind;— °at the wreathings and convolutions of a column 
of smoke;— or at the momentary beauties and splendours 
of fireworks, amid the darkness of night. In the human 
figure, however, the enchanting power of graceful motion 
is probably owing chiefly to the living expression which 
it exhibits;— an expression ever renewed and ever vari» 
ed,-— of taste and of mental elegance. 

From the combination of these three elements (of 
eolours^ of forms ^ and of motion) what a variety of com- 
plicated results may be conceived! And in any one of 
these results, who can ascertain the respective share of 
each element in its production? Is it wonderful, then, that 
the word Beauty, supposing it at first to have been applied 
to colours alone, should gradually and insensibly acquire 
a more extensive meaning? 

In this enlargement, too, of the signification of the 
word, it is particularly worthy of remark, that it is not 
in consequence of the discovery of any quality belonging 
in common to colours, to forms, and to motion, con- 
sidered abstractly, that the same word is now applied to 
them indiscriminately. They all indeed agree in this, that 
they give pleasure to the spectator; but diere cannot,' I 
think, be a doubt, that they please on principles essentially 
different; and that the transference of the word Beauty, 
from the first to the last, arises solely from their undis- 
tinguishable cooperation in producing the same agreeable 
effect, inconsequence of their being all perceived by the 
same organ, and at the same instant. 

It is not necessary for any of the purposes which I have 



Chap. II.5 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 255 

at present in view, that I should attempt to investigate 
the principles on which colours, forms, or motion, give 
pleasure to the eye. With the greater part of Mr. Alison's 
remarks, on these qualities, I perfectly agree; although 
in the case of the first, > I am disposed to ascribe more to 
the mere organic impression, independently of any asso- 
ciation or expression whatever, than he seems willing to 
allow. 

The opinion, however, we may adopt on this point is 
of little importance to the following argument, provided 
it be granted that each of these classes (comprehended 
under the generic term Beautiful) ought, in a philoso- 
phical inquiry into the nature of Beauty, to form the ob- 
ject of a separate investigation; and that the sources of 
these pleasing effects should be traced in analytical detail, 
before we presume to decide how far they are suscep- 
tible of explanation from one general theory. In this re- 
spect, Mr. Alison's work seems to me to be peculiarly 
valuable. It is eminently calculated to awaken and to 
direct the observation of his readers to particular pheno- 
mena, and to the state of their own feelings; and whoever 
peruses it with due attention, cannot fail to be satisfied, 
that the metaphysical generalizations which have been so 
often attempted on this subject, are not more unsuccessful 
in their execution, than they are unphilosophical in their 
design. 

Mr. Hogarth and Mr. Burke are also entitled to much 
praise, for a variety of original and just remarks, with 
which they have enriched this part of the Philosophy of 
the Human Mind. But although they appear to have 
aimed at a plan of inquiry founded on the rules of a sound 
logic; and although their good sense has kept them at a 



256 ON THE BEAUTIFUL, [Essay I. 

distance from that vague and mysterious phraseology con- 
cerning Beauty in general, in which so many of their 
predecessors delighted, they have, nevertheless, been fre- 
quently misled by the spirit of system; attempting to 
erect the critical inferences which their good taste had 
formed in some particular departments of the fine arts, 
into established maxims of universal application. The 
justness of this criticism, so far as it refers to Hogarth, 
has been shewn in a very satisfactory manner by Mr. Al- 
ison; and it will appear, in the course of our present 
speculations, that Mr. Burke falls, at least in an equal de- . 
gree, under the same censure. Before, however, I proceed 
to any comments on the conclusions of this eminent 
writer, it is necessary for me, in the first place, to follow 
out, a few steps farther, the natural progress or history 
of the mind, in its conceptions of the Beautiful. 

I have already taken notice of the pleasure which chil- 
dren very early manifest at the sight of regular forms, 
and uniform arrangements. The principles on which these 
produce their effects, and which render one regular form . 
more pleasing than another, have engaged the attention 
of various authors; but it is sufficient for my purpose if 
the general fact be admitted; and about this there cannot 
possibly be any room for dispute. With respect to the 
theories which profess to account for the phenomena in 
question, I must own, that they appear to me more fan- 
ciful than solid; although I am far from being disposed to 
insinuate, that they are totally destitute of foundation. 

The same love of regular forms, and of uniform ar- 
rangements, continues to influence powerfully, in the ma- 
turity of reason and experience, the judgments we pro- 
nounce on all works of human art, where regularity and 



Chap. n..l ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 257 

uniformity do not interfere with purposes of utility. In 
recommending these forms and arrangements, in the par- 
ticular circumstances just mentioned, there is one princi- 
ple which seems to me to have no inconsiderable influence; 
and which I shall take this opportunity of hinting at 
slightly, as I do not recollect to have seen it anywhere 
applied to questions of criticism. The principle I allude 
to is, that of the sufficient reason., of which so much use 
is made, (and in my opinion sometimes very erroneously 
made) in the philosophy of Leibnitz. What is it that, in 
any thing which is merely ornamental, and which, at the 
same time, does not profess to be an imitation of nature, 
renders irregular forms displeasing? Is it not, at least in 
part., that irregularities are infinite; and that no circum- 
stance can be imagined which should have decided the 
choice of the artist in favour of that particular figure 
which he has selected? The variety of regular figures (it 
must be acknowledged) is infinite also; but supposing the 
choice to be once fixed about the number of sides, no ap- 
parent caprice of the artist in adjusting their relative pro- 
portions, presents a disagreeable and inexplicable puzzle 
to the spectator. Is it not also owing, in part., to this, that 
in things merely ornamental, where no use, even the 
most trifling, is intended, the circular form possesses a 
superiority over all others? 

In a house, which is completely detached from all other 
buildings, and which stands on a perfectly level foundai» 
tion, why are we offended when the door is not placed ex» 
actly in the middle; or when there is a window on one 
side of the door, and none corresponding to it on the other? 
Is it not that we are at a loss to conceive how the choice 

of the architect could be thus determined, where all cir- 

2 K 



-258 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay 1. 

cu instances appear to be so exactly alike? This disagree- 
able effect is, in a great measure, removed, the moment 
any purpose of utility is discovered; or even when the 
contiguity of other houses, or some peculiarity in the 
shape of ground, allows us to imagine, that some reason- 
able motive may have existed in the artist's mind, though 
we may be unable to trace it. An irregular castellated edi- 
fice, set down on a dead flat, conveys an idea of whim or 
of folly in the designer; and it would convey this idea still 
more strongly than it does, were it not that the imitation 
of something else, which we have previously seen with 
pleasure, makes the absurdity less revolting. The same, 
or yet greater irregularity, would not only satisfy, but 
delight the eye, in an ancient citadel, whose ground^work 
and elevations followed the rugged surface and fantastic 
projections of the rock on which it is built. The oblique 
position of a window in a house, would be intolerable; 
but utility, or rather necessity, reconciles the eye to it at 
at once, in the cabin of a ship. 

In hanging up against the wall of an apartment a num- 
ber of pictures, of different forms and sizes, the same 
consideration will be found to determine the propriety of 
the arrangement. A picture placed near one extremity of 
the wall will require a companion at the same distance 
from the other, and in the same horizontal line; and if 
there is any one which, in point of shape or size, is unique^ 
it must be placed somewhere in the vertical line, which 
is equally distant from both. 

Numberless other illustrations of this principle crowd 
on me; but I have already said enough to explain the no- 
tion which 1 annex to it, and perhaps more than, to some 
of my readers, its importimce may appear to justify. 



Chap.U.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 259 

The remarks which have now been made, apply, as is 
obvious, to the works of man alone. In those of Nature, 
impressed, as they are every where, with the signatures 
of Almighty Power, and of Unfathomable Design, we do 
not look for that obvious uniformity of plan which we ex- 
pect to find in the productions of beings endowed with 
the same faculties, and actuated by the same motives 
as ourselves. A deviation from uniformity, on the contra* 
ry, in the grand outlines sketched by her hand, appears 
perfectly suited to that infinity which is associated, in our 
conceptions, with all her operations; while it enhances, to 
an astonishing degree, the delight arising from the regu- 
larity which, in her minuter details, she every where scat- 
ters in such inexhaustible profusion. 

It is, indeed, by very slow degrees, that this taste for 
natural beauty is formed; the first impulse of youth 
prompting it (as I before hinted) to subject nature to 
rules borrowed from the arts of human life. When such 
a taste, however, is at length acquired, the former not 
only appears false, but ludicrous; and perishes of itself, 
without any danger of again reviving. — The associa- 
tions, on the other hand, by which the love of nature is 
strengthened, having their root in far higher and nobler 
principles of the mind than those attached to the puerile 
judgments which they gradually supplant, are invariably 
confirmed more and more, in proportion to the advance- 
ment of reason, and the enlargement of experience. 

The traces of art, which formerly lent an additional 
charm to the natural beauties which it was employed to 
heighten, become now themselves offensive, wherevef 
they appear; and even when it has been successfully ex- 
erted in supplying defects and correcting blemishes, th« 



260 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay t 

effect is destroyed, in proportion as its interposition is 
visible. The last stage of taste, therefore, in the progress 
of its improvement, leads to the admiration of what Mar- 
tial calls— i?w^ verum et barbarum; 

« Where, if Art 
" E'er dar'd to tread, *twas with unsandal'd foot, 
" Printless, as if the place were holy ground/* 

To analyse the different ingredients of the Beauty 
which scenery of this kind presents to an eye qualified to 
enjoy it, is a task which I do not mean to attempt; per- 
haps a task to which the faculties of man are not com- 
pletely adequate. Not that this furnishes any objection to 
the inquiry, or diminishes the value of such approxima- 
tions to the truth, as we are able to establish on a solid 
induction. But I confess it appears to me, that few of 
our best writers on the subject have been sufficiently 
aware of its difficulty; and that they have all shewn a 
disposition to bestow upon observations, collected from 
particular classes of facts, (and perhaps accurately and 
happily collected from these) a universality of application 
little suited to the multiplicity and variety of the pheno- 
mena which they profess to explain.* That this remark 
is not hazarded rashly, will, if I do not deceive myself, 
appear sufficiently from the critical strictures on some of 
Mr, Burke's principles which I find it necessary to intro- 
duce here, in order to obviate certain objections which 
are likely to occur to his followers, against the general 
scope of the foregoing doctrines. The digression may 
appear long to some of my readers; but I could not hope 
to engage any attention to the sequel of these discussions, 

* See Note (S). 



Chap, irj ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 261 

till I had first endeavoured to remove the chief stumbling- 
blocks, which a theory, recommended by so illustrious a 
name, has thrown in my way. In the animadversions, 
besides, which I have to offer on Mr. Burke, I flatter my- 
self I shall have an opportunity of unfolding my own 
ideas more clearly and fully, than I could have done by 
stating them at once in a connected and didactic form. 



262 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. JEisay t 



CHAPTER THIRD. 

REMARKS ON SOME OF MR. EURKE's PRINCIPLES WHICH DO NOT AO&££ 
WITH THE FOREGOING CONCLUSIONS. 

Among the various writers who have turned their at- 
tention to the Beautiful, with a design to trace the origin, 
and to define the nature of that idea, there is, perhaps, 
none who has engaged in the inquiry with views more 
comprehensive and just than Mr. Burke; but, even with 
respect to him, it may be fairly questioned, if any one of 
the conclusions to which he has been led concerning the 
causes of beauty, amounts to more than a critical inference, 
applicable to some particular class or classes of the phe- 
nomena in question. 

In examining the opinions of this author, it seems to 
me extremely worthy of observation, that although his 
good sense has resisted completely the metaphysical mys- 
teries of the schools, he has suffered himself to be led 
astray by a predilection for that hypothetical physiology 
concerning the connection between mind and matter, 
which has become so fashionable of late years.* His 

* This sort of philosophy was much in vogue, all over Europe, 
about the time when Mr. Burke's book first appeared; — in conse- 
quence, perhaps, chiefly of the enthusiastic admiration every where 
excited by the Spirit of Laws, then recently published. The micro- 
scopical observations on the papillae of a sheep's tongue, to which 
Montesquieu has there appealed in his reasonings concerning the 
operation of physical causes on the mind, bear a remarkable resem- 
blance to some of the data assumed by Mr. Burke in bis physiolo- 
§:ical conclusions with respect to our perception of the beautiful. 

Some^ 



CUap. mj ' ON THE BEAXJTIFUU 263 

generalizations, too, proceed on an assumption, not indeed 
so unlimited as that already quoted from the Encyclope- 
die^ but yet much more extensive than the nature of the 
subject will admit of; — That, in the objects of all our 
different external senses, there is some common quality 
to which the epithet Beautiful may be applied; and that 
this epithet, in all these different cases, conveys the same 
meaning. Instead, for example, of supposing (agreeably 
to the doctrine which I have already suggested) that the 
epithet in question is applied to colours and to forms, in 
consequence of their both producing their pleasing effects 
through the medium of the same organ, he endeavours to 
shew, that there is an analogy between these two classes of 
our pleasure; or, to use his own words, that '* the beauty 
" both oi shape and colouring, are as nearly related as we 
" can well suppose it possible for things of such different 
*' natures to be."* In both cases, he asserts, that the 
beautiful object has a tendency to produce an agreeable 
relaxation in the fibres; and it is in this tendency that he 
conceives the essence of the Beautiful to consist. In far- 
ther illustration of this, he observes, *' that smooth things 
" are relaxing; that sweet things, which are the smooth of 
" taste, are relaxing too; and that sweet smells, which bear 
**a great affinity to srweet tastes, relax very remarkably.'- 
He adds, that " we often apply the quality of sweetness 
*' metaphorically to visual objects;" after which observa- 
tion, he proposes, ** for the better carrying on this re-^ 

Something, also, which looks like an imitation of the same great 
man, is observable in the extreme shortness and abruptness of the 
sections, which incessantly interrupt the natural flow of Mr. Burke's 
composition. 

* Pan III, sect, 17. 



264 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay L 

** markahle analogy of the senses, to call sweetness the 
'* beautiful of the taste, ^^ 

In order to convey a still more adequate idea of Mr. 
Burke's mode of philosophizing on this subject, I shall 
quote a few of his remarks on the causes, ** why smooth- 
" ness and sweetness are beautiful." The quotation is 
longer than I could have wished; but I was unwilling to 
attempt an abridgment of it in my own words, from my 
anxiety that his reasoning should have all the advantages 
which it may derive from his peculiar felicity of expres- 
sion. 

" There can be no doubt, that bodies which are rough 
" and angular, rouse and vellicate the organs of feeling; 
*' causing a sense of pain, which consists in the violent 
'' tension or contraction of the muscular fibres. On the 
"contrary, the application of smooth bodies relax: — gen- 
** tie stroking with a smooth hand allays violent pains and 
" cramps, and relaxes the suffering parts from their un- 
" natural tension; and it has, therefore, very often, no 
"mean effect in removing swellings and obstructions. 
" The sense of feeling is highly gratified with smooth 
" bodies.' A bed smoothly laid and soft, that is, where the 
** resistance is every way inconsiderable, is a great luxury; 
" disposing to an universal relaxation, and inducing, be- 
" yond any thing else, that species of it called sleep. 

" Nor is it only in the touch that smooth bodies cause 
" positive pleasure by relaxation. In the smell and taste 
" we find all things agreeable to them, and which are com- 
" monly called sweet, to be of a smooth nature,* and that 

* In this part of his theory, Mr. Burke has very closely followed 

Lucretius, whose fancy anticipated the san^e hypothesis, without the 

aid of microscopical observation. 

"Hue 

2 



(jjiap. m] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 265 

" they all evidently tend to relax their respective senso- 
" ries. Let us first consider the taste. Since it is most 
** easy to inquire into the properties of liquids, and since 
** all things seem to vi^ant a fluid vehicle to make them 
" tasted at all, I intend rather to consider the liquid than 
" the solid parts of our food. The vehicles of all tastes are 
" water and oil. And what determines the taste, is some 
" salt which affects variously, according to its nature, or 
" its manner of being combined with other things. Water 
" and oil, simply considered, are capable of giving some 
" pleasure to the taste. Water, when simple, is insipid, 
'^ inodorous, colourless, and smooth; it is found, when 
'' not cold, to be a great resolver of spasms, and lubrica- 
*' tor of the fibres: this power it probably owes to its 
" smoothness. For, as fluidity depends, according to the 
" most general opinion, on the roundness, smoothness, 
'* and weak cohesion of the component parts of any body, 
" and, as water acts merely as a simple fluid, it follows, 
" that the cause of its fluidity is likewise the cause of its 
" relaxing quality; namely, the smoothness and slippery 
" texture of its parts. The other fluid vehicle of tastes is 
** oil. This too, when simple, is insipid, inodorous, colour- 
^' less, and smooth to the touch and taste. It is smoother 

** Hue accedit, uti mellls lactisque liqiiores 

** Jucundo sensu ling-uee, tractentur in ore; 

'* At contra tetra absintlu natura, ferique 

** Centaurl foedo pertorquent ora sapore: 

*'Ut facile agnoscas e Isevibus, atque rotundis 

"Esse ea, qu?e sensus jucunde tangere possunt. 

" At contra, qucc aniara, atque aspera, cunque videntur;, 

" Hsec mag-is hamatis inter se nexa teneri; 

*' Proptereaque solere vias rescindere nostris 

*' Sensibus, introituque suo perrumpere corpus. 

" Omnia postremo," &c. Lucret. Lib. II. 1. 398. 

The contmuation of the passage is not less curious. 

2 L 



266 " ON THE BEAUTIFUL, [Essay I. 

" than water, and, in many cases, yet more relaxing. Oil 
'' i'j, in some degree, pleasant to the eye, the touch, and 
'' the taste, insipid as it is. Water is not so grateful; 
** which 1 do not know on what principle to account for, 
*' other than that water is not so soft and smooth. Suppose, 
" that to this oil, or water, were added a certain quantity 
" of a specific salt, which had a power of putting the 
** nervous papillae of the tongue in a gentle vibratory mo- 
*' tion; as suppose sugar dissolved in it; the smoothness 
** of the oil, and the vibratory power of the salt, cause the 
'* sense we call sweetness. In all sweet bodies, sugar, or 
*' a substance very little different from sugar, is constantly 
*' found; every species of salt, examined by the micro- 
'' scope, has its own distinct, regular, invariable form. 
'* That of nitre is a pointed oblong; that of sea-salt an 
" exact cube; that of sugar a perfect globe. If you have 
*' tried how smooth globular bodies, as the marbles with 
*' which boys anuise themselves, have affected the touch, 
" when they are rolled backward and forward, and over 
'' one another, you will easily conceive, how sweetness, 
*' which consists in a salt of such nature, affects the taste; 
" for a single globe, (though somewhat pleasant to the 
" feeling) yet, by the regularity of its form, and the 
'' somewhat too sudden deviation of its parts from a right 
" line, it is nothing near so pleasant to the touch as several 
'' globes, where the hand gently rises to one, and falls to 
" another; and this pleasure is greatly increased, if the 
" globes are in motion, and sliding over one another; for 
*' this soft variety prevents tliat weariness, which the uni- 
'' form disposition of the several globes would otherwise 
** produce. Thus, in sweet liquors, the parts of the fluid 
*' vehicle, though most probably round, are yet so minute. 



Chap. UL] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 267 

'* as to conceal the figure of their component parts from 
*' the nicest inquisition of the microscope; and conse- 
>* quently, behig so excessively minute, they have a sort 
" of flat simplicity to the taste, resembhng the effects of 
" plain smooth bodies to the touch; for if a body be 
" composed of round parts, excessively small, and pack- 
" ed pretty closely together, the surface will be both to 
" the sight and touch, as if it vi^ere nearly plain and 
" smooth. It is clear, from their unveiling their figure to 
" the microscope, that the particles of sugar are con- 
'' siderably larger than those of water or oil; and conse- 
" quently, that their effects, from their roundness, will be 
*' more distinct and palpable to the nervous papillae of 
*' that nice organ the tongue. They will induce that sense, 
** called sweetness, which, in a weak manner, we disco- 
" ver in oil, and in a yet weaker in water; for, insipid as 
*' they are, water and oil are, in some degree, sweet; and 
*' it may be observed, that insipid things of all kinds ap- 
'' proach more nearly to the nature of sweetness, than to 
** that of any other taste. 

*' In the other senses, we have remarked that smooth 
" things are relaxing. Now, it ought to appear, that sweet 
" things, which are the smooth of taste, are relaxing too." 
— " That sweet things are generally relaxing, is evident, 
'' because all such, especially those which are most oily, 
*' taken frequently, and in a large quantity, very much 
** enfeeble the tone of the stomach. Sweet smells, which 
*' bear a great affinity to sweet tastes, relax very remark - 
*' ably. The smell of flowers disposes people to drowsi- 
^' ness; and this relaxing effect is further apparent from the 
** prejudice which people of weak nerves receive from 
^* their use." 



268 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay L 

If this theory of Mr. Burke had led to no practical con- 
sequences, I should not have thought it worth while, not- 
withstanding its repugnance to my own opinions, to have 
made any reference to it here; but as it is intimately con- 
nected with some of his subsequent conclusions concern- 
ing Beauty, which I consider as not only unsound ^n their 
logical foundation, but as calculated to bias and mislead 
the Taste, I was anxious, before proceeding to an exami- 
nation of these, to satisfy my readers, how little support 
they derive from the hypothetical disquisitions premised 
to them, in order to prepare the way for their more easy 
admission. As for the physiological discussion itself, I am 
inclined to think, that few, even of Mr. Burke's most par- 
tial admirers, will 7iow be disposed to estimate its merits 
very highly. By some others, I would willingly believe, 
that it may be valued chiefly as an illustration of the absur- 
dities in which men of the most exalted genius are sure 
to involve themselves, the moment they lose sight, in their 
inquiries concerning the human mind, of the sober rules 
of experimental science. 



Chap. IV.3 ON THE BEAXJTIFUl. 269 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 

CONTINUATION OF THE CRITICAL STRICTURES ON MR. BURKE's FUN- 

DAMENTAL PRINCIPLES CONCERNING BEAUTY. INFLUENCE OF 

THESE PRINCIPLES ON THE SPECULATIONS OF MR. PRICE. 

IN enumerating the qualities constantly observable in 
beautiful objects, Mr. Burke lays a peculiar stress on 
that oi smoothness; " a quality" (he observes) " so essen- 
^* tial to beauty, that he cannot recollect any thing beau- 
*' tiful that is not smooth. In trees and flowers, smooth 
''leaves are beautiful; smooth slopes of earth in gardens; 
'* smooth streams in landscapes; smooth coats of birds and 
** beasts in animal beauty; in fine women, smooth skins; 
" and, in several sorts of ornamental furniture, smooth and 
" polished surfaces. A very considerable part of the effect 
" of beauty is owing to this quality; indeed the most con- 
" siderable. For, take any beautiful object, and give it a 
" broken and rugged surface, and however well formed 
'* it may be in other respects, it pleases no longer. Where- 
" as, let it want ever so many of the other constituents, if 
" it wants not this, it becomes more pleasing than almost 
'' all the others without it. This seems to me" (continues 
Mr. Burke) " so evident, that I am a good deal surprised 
** that none who have handled the subject, have made any 
'' mention of the quality of smoothness, in the enumera- 
"tion of those that go to the forming of beauty. For, 
*' indeed, any rugged, any sudden projection, any sharp 
" angle, is, in the highest degree, contrary to that idea." 



270 ON THE BEAUTIFUL, fE^toy I, 

These observations contain the whole of Mr. Burke's 
doctrine on this essential constituent of beauty; and, I 
confess, I cannot recollect any philosophical conclusion 
whatever, more erroneous in itself, or more feebly sup- 
ported. 

That the smoothness of many objects is one constitu- 
ent of their beauty, cannot be disputed. In consequence 
of that intimate association which is formed in the mind 
between the perceptions of sight and those of touch, it 
is reasonable to expect, that those qualities which give 
pleasure to the latter sense, should also be agreeable to 
the former. Hence the agreeable impression which the 
eye receives from all those smooth objects about which 
the sense of touch is habitually conversant; and hence, in 
such instances, the unpleasant appearance of ruggedness, 
or of asperity. The agreeable effect, too, of smoothness 
is often heightened by its reflecting so copiously the rays 
of light; as in the surface of water, in polished mirrors, 
and in the fine kinds of wood employed in ornamental 
furniture. In some instances, besides, as in the last now 
mentioned, smoothness derives an additional recommen- 
dation from its being considered as a mark of finished 
work, and of a skilful artist.* 

* In general, we consider roughness as characterizing the produc- 
tions of nature; s7noothness^ as the effect of human industry. I speak 
of those natural productions which were intended to furnish the 
materials of our various arts. In other cases, as in the pluraage of 
birds, the glossy skins of many quadrupeds, &c. &c. Nature has 
given to her own work a finished perfection, which no art can rival. 

By an easy metaphor, we transfer these words to human charac- 
ter. We speak of rough good sense as familiarly as of a rough dia- 
mond; while to the artificial manners formed by the intercourse of 
the world, we apply the epithets smooth^ polishedyfiolite. 



Chap. IV.3 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 271 

To all this we may add, that the ideas of beauty formed 
by our sex, are warped, not a little, by the notions we are 
led to entertain concerning the charms of the other. That 
in female beauty, a smooth skin is an essential ingredient, 
must be granted in favour of Mr. Burke's theory: Nor is 
it at all difficult to conceive how this association may in- 
fluence our taste in various other instances.* 

Still, however, Mr. Burke's general proposition is very 
far from holding universally. In objects which have little 

*The idea oi female beauty was evidently uppermost in Mr. 
Burke's mind, when he wrote his book; and it is from an induction, 
confined almost exclusively to the qualities which enter into its com- 
position, that he draws the whole of his inferences with respect to 
beauty in general. Even in treating of the beauty of Nature, his 
imagination always delights to repose on her softest and most femi- 
nine features; or, to use his own language, on " such qualities as in- 
" duce in us a sense of tenderness and affection, or some other pas- 
" sion the most nearly resembling these." So far as this particular 
. application of the word is concerned, the induction appears to me 
just and comprehensive; and I readily subscribe to the opinion of 
Mr. Price, when he assumes it" as perfectly clear, that Mr. Burke's 
" general firinciplea of (5ertz^2'2/— smoothness, gradual variation, deli- 
<' cacy of make, tender colours, and such as insensibly melt into 
" each other, are strictly afifUicable to female beauty; so much so, 
" that not one of them can be changed or diminished without a ma- 
<* nifest diminution of beauty." — (Essay on Beauty, prefixed to Mr. 
Price's Dialogue, p. 22.) 

In speculating on the idea of the beautiful in general^ it seems evi- 
dent, that we ought to begin with selecting our instances from ob- 
jects intended to produce their effect on the eye alone; and afterwards 
proceed to examine the various modifications of this idea, produced 
by associations arising from the perceptions of the other senses; — 
by associations of a moral nature; — by considerations of utility, Sec. 
&c. Sec. By following the opposite plan, and fixing (unconsciously 
perhaps) on female beauty as his standard, Burke has fallen into the 
very mistake, against which he has so judiciously cautioned his read- 
ers; that of " circumscribing nature within the bounds of a partial 
" definition or description." — (See the Essay on Taste, prefixed t© 
the Inquiry into the Sublime and Beautiful) 



272 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay 1. 

or no relation to the sense of touch, it fails in numberless 
instances. What more beautiful objects in nature, than' 
the stalk and buds of the moss-rose! To the sense of 
touch they are positively disagreeable; but we think of 
them only with a reference to the sense of smelling and 
sight; and the effect is, on the whole, delightful.* 

In natural objects, too, which are of so great a magni- 
tude that we never think of subjecting them to the exa- 
mination of touch, as well as in artificial objects, which 
are intended to be placed at an altitude beyond our reach, 
roughness, and even ruggedness, may often be consider- 
ed as ingredients of beauty; as in rock- scenery, fretted 
ceilings, and various other cases. The fantastic forms of 
frost-work, and the broken surface of shell- work in arti- 
ficial grottos, are obvious illustrations of the same remark. 

* Mr. Price has not only acknowledged the beauty of the moss- 
rose, but has connected with this fact some others, all of them equally 
inconsistent, in my opinion, with the peculiar notions which he has 
adopted from Mr. Burke. " Flowers are the most delicate and beau- 
" tiful of inanimate objects; but their queen, the rose, grows on a 
<* rough bush, whose leaves are serrated, and which is full of thorns. 
" The moss-rose has the addition of a rough hairy fringe, that almost 

"makes a part of the flower itself." "Among the foreign oaks, 

" maples, 8cc. those are particularly esteemed, whose leaves {accord- 
^^ ing to a common though perhaps contradictory phrase^ are beauti- 

" FULLY JAGGED." 

"The vine leaf has, in all respects, a strong resemblance to the 
" leaf of the plane, and that extreme richness of effect, which every 
" body must be struck with in them both, is greatly owing to those 
" sharp angles, those sudden variations, so contrary to the idea of 

" beauty, when considered by itself." " The effect of these 

" jagged points iind angles is more strongly marked in sculpture, 
" especially of vases of metal, where the vine leaf, if imprudently 
" handled, would at least prove, that sharpness is very contrary to 
" the beautiful in feeling." — (Price on the Picturesque, p. 94, et 
seq.) 

O 



Chap. IV. j ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 273 

In some of these last instances, the beauty of roughness 
arises, in part, from the very same cause which, in other 
cases, gives beauty to smoothness; the aptitude of the ob- 
ject to reflect, in an agreeable manner, the rays of light. 
Hence, too, the beauty of the brilliant cut in diamonds, 
and of the numberless angular forms (so contrary to Mr. 
Burke's theory) in ornaments of cut crystal. 

The agreeable effect of the smooth shaven green in gar- 
dens, seems also to arise from circumstances foreign to 
the sense of sight; particularly from the ideas of comfort 
connected with the use which is to be made of them; and 
the intimations they convey of the industry, attention and 
art, employed in forming them, and in keeping them in 
order. The same smoothness and trim regularity would 
make a very different impression, if we should meet with 
them, out of their proper place; — on the suif;ice, for ex- 
ample, of a sheep-walk, or of a deer-park; or (where we 
have sometimes the misfortune to see them) in the imme- 
diate neighbourhood of a venerable ruin. 

o 

In the section immediately following that to which I 
have now referred, Mr. Burke observes further, *' That, 
" as perfectly beautiful bodies are not composed of angu- 
*' lar parts, so their parts never continue long in the same 
'-' right line. They vary their direction every moment, and 
'' they change under the eye, by a deviation continually 
*' carrying on, but for whose beginning or end you will 
'' find it difficult to ascertain a point." He afterwards 
adds: " I do not find any natural object which is angular, 
*'and at the same time beautiful. Indeed few natural 
*' objects are entirely angular. But I think, those which 
'• approach the most nearly to it are the ugliest." 

2 M 



274 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

To the disagreeable effect which is here ascribed to 
angles, the same remark may be extended which was 
formerly made upon roughness; that it is confined chiefly 
to things destined to be handled, and which we know 
from experience would offend or injure the sense of touch. 
It is felt, too, in some cases, in which objects are consi- 
dered in relation to certain uses or purposes for which 
they are intended; as in the sharp and inconvenient turn- 
ings of a road. But, abstracting from these and other an- 
alogous exceptions, it does not occur to me, that angles 
and other sudden variations are offensive to the eye. I 
have already mentioned the angular forms of cut crystal, 
and of gems which have passed through the hands of the 
lapidary; and also the more irregular and broken shapes 
of rock scenery. The same thing is still more strongly 
illustrated in such spectacles as belong to the sense of sight 
exclusively; as in fire-works; in the painting and gilding 
of the clouds; and, above all, in the zig-zag course of the 
ragged lightning. 

A sharp angle is offensive in a river, partly because the 
gentle progress of the stream is too abruptly and rudely 
forced into a new direction; but chiefly, because the usual 
and natural course of rivers exhibits a diftbrent appearance, 
in consequence of the gradual influence of the current in 
wearing whatever is angular into an easy and sweeping 
curvature. For the same reason, habit, cooperating with 
(what is always agreeable) a clear perception of the phy- 
sical cause by which a geological eftect is produced, be- 
stows a beauty on the regular correspondence of the 
saliant and reentering angles of the opposite banks. It 
is, however, curious, and a strong confirmation of the 



Chap. IV.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. ^75 

truth of these remarks, that we judge of the beauty of a 
lake on principles perfectly different; and that nothing in 
jiature can be conceived more pleasing, than when its 
shores are deeply indented by bays and creeks; or when 
sharp promontories advance boldly towards each other 
from opposite sides of the water. On this circumstance 
(as the Abbe de Lille has well remarked) is founded the 
characteristical difference between the beauties of a lake 
and those of a river. 

" Autant que la riviere en sa moUe souplesse 

" D'un rivage anguleux redout la rudesse, 

" Autant les bords aigus, les longs enfoncemens 

" Sont d'un lac etendu les plus beaux ornemens. 

" Que la terre tantot s'avance au sein des ondes, 

" Tantot qu'elle ouvre aux flots des retraites profondes; 

*' Et qu'ainsi s'appellant d'un mutuel amour, 

" Et la terre et les eaux se cherchent tour-a-tour. 

" Ces aspects varies amusent votre vue."* 

The doctrine which I have been now controverting, 
with respect to the effects of smoothness and of asperity, 
is entitled to more than common attention, as it forms the 
ground- work of a very ingenious and elegant Essay on 
the Picturesque, which, for several years past, has de- 
servedly attracted a great deal of public attention. Indeed 
it was chiefly with a view to this work (the author of 
which seems to me to have been misled in his phraseolo- 

* Les Jardins.— The same observation had been previously made 
by Mr. Wheatley, in his " Observations on Modern Gardening," 4th 
edit. p. 66. — " In a lake, just the reverse of a river, creeks, bays, 
" recesses of every kind, are always in character, sometimes neces- 
" sary, and generally beautiful: the objections to them in the one, are 
" recommendations of them in the other." 



276 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay f. 

gy, and in some of his theoretical opinions, by too im- 
plicit an acquiescence in Mr. Burke's conclusions), that 
I was led to select the subject of the foregoing discussion, 
in preference to various other points connected with the 
same system, which I consider as no less open to fair 
criticism. 

According to Mr. Price, the circumstances which please, 
both in natural scenes and in the compositions of the 
painter, are of two kinds; the Beautiful and the Picturesque. 
These, he thinks, are radically and essentially distinct; 
though both must unite together in order to produce an 
effect completely agreeable. Smoothness, weaving hues, 
and the other circumstances mentioned by Burke, are 
characteristical of the Beautiful; asperity, sharp angles, 
Sec. of the Picturesque. 

To this conclusion Mr. Price was naturally, or rather 
necessarily led, by his admission, at his first outset, of 
Mr. Burke's peculiar tenets as so many incontrovertible 
axioms. In the progress of his subsequent researches, find- 
ing numberless ingredients in agreeable compositions, that 
could not be brought under Burke's enumeration of the 
qualities which " go to the composition of the beautiful," 
he w^as forced to arrange them under some new name; 
whereas, hf^ ought rather to have concluded, that the enu- 
meration was partial and defective, and extended the ap- 
plication of the word Beauty, to whatever qualities in natu- 
ral objects affect the mind with agreeable emotions through 
the medium of sight. Instead, for example, of objecting to 
that style of landscape-gardening, wdiich has been carried 
to such an excess by some of the follow^ers of Brown, 
©n the ground of its not h^mg picturesque^ would it not 



Chap.IV.^ ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 277 

have been more agreeable to common language, to have 
objected to it on the ground of its not being beautiful? 
For my own part, I am inclined to admit asperity, sharp 
angles, and irregularity (when introduced in their proper 
places) among the constituents of Beauty, as well as their 
opposites; and I would study the art of combining them 
happily, not in the arbitrary definitions of theorists, but 
in the great volume of Nature herself. The conjectures 
of various modern writers concerning the principles upon 
which different forms produce their effects, and the con- 
clusions of some of them (particularly of Hogarth) with 
respect to the waving line, do great honour to their in- 
genuity, and may probably admit, in some of the arts, of 
very useful practical applications: but philosophical dis- 
tinctness, as well as universal practice, requires, that the 
meaning of the word Beauty, instead of being restrict- 
ed in conformity to any partial system whatever, should 
continue to be the generic word for expressing every 
quality which, in the works either of nature or of art, 
contributes to render them agreeable to the eye. I would 
not therefore restrict, even to Hogarth's line, the appella- 
tion of the line of beauty^ if that phrase be understood to 
imply any thing more, than that this line seems, from an 
examination of many of Nature's most pleasing produc- 
tions, to be one of her favourite forms. 

Before dismissing the theories of Hogarth and Burke, 
I think it proper again to remind my readers, that I do 
not dispute their practical value in some of the fine arts, 
I only object to such systems when they profess to em- 
brace all the principles on which the complicated charms 
of Nature depend; or when,^ without any reference to a 



278 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. fEssay I, 

particular design, they are converted into universal max- 
ims, arising out of the very definition of beauty; and to 
which, of consequence, artists may conceive it to be in- 
cumbent on them to adhere, in order to insure success. 
In works which are merely ornamental, they are much 
more likely to hold, than when some farther end is pro- 
posed; for, in cases of the latter sort, the pleasing or dis- 
agreeable effects connected with material forms, consider- 
ed abstractly, are so easily overpowered by the more 
weighty considerations suggested by views of fitness and 
utility, that the maxims adapted to one art will seldom be 
found of much use when applied to another: the maxims, 
for example, of architecture, when applied to landscape- 
gardening; or those of landscape-gardening, when applied 
to architecture. 

The beauty of a winding approach to a house, when 
the easy deviations from the straight line are all account- 
ed for by the shape of the ground, or by the position of 
trees, is universally acknowledged; but what more ridi- 
culous than a road meandering through a plain, perfectly 
level and open? In this last case, I am inclined to refer the 
disagreeable effect to the principle of the sufficient reason 
already mentioned. The slightest apology for a sweep 
satisfies the taste at once. It is enough that the designer 
has the appearance of humouring nature, and not of in- 
dulging his own caprice. The pleasing effect of the ir- 
regular tracks worn out upon the surface o^ broken ground^ 
by the frequent footsteps of shepherds, or even of their 
fiocks, will be found, on examination, to turn on the very 
same principle. 

How much our feelings, in such cases, are influenced 



ehap. IV.J ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 279 

by considerations oi fitness or utility, appears from the 
difterent judgments we pronounce on the beauty of the 
same line, according to the purpose for which we conceive 
it to be destined. In judging of an approach to a house, 
we have always a secret reference to the form and mecha- 
nism of our common wheel- carriages. 

It does not follow from these remarks, that there is no 
beauty in the serpentine line; but only that, in things des- 
tined for any useful purpose, its pleasing effect may be de- 
stroyed by the most trivial circumstances. 

I recollect the period when serpentine ridges, in plough- 
ed land.,, were pretty generally considered in Scotland as 
beautiful; and if they were equally consistent with good 
husbandry, I have no doubt that they would be more 
pleasing to the eye than straight ones. The association, 
however, which is now universally established between 
the former, and the ideas of carelessness, sloth, and po- 
verty; — between the latter, and the ideas of industry, skill, 
and prosperity, has completely altered our notions con- 
cerning both. Mr. Burke, indeed, rejects utility from his 
enumeration of the constituents of beauty; but I am per- 
suaded, that I speak in perfect conformity to the common 
feelings and common language of mankind, when I say, 
that nothing is more beautiful than a highly dressed field. 
Such, too, I am happy to add, was the opinion of Cicero. 
** Agro bene culto, nil potest esse, nee usu uberius, nee 
*^ specie ornatius,'''' 



280 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I 



CHAPTER FIFTH. 

CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT. 

1 O the latitude in the use of the word Beauty, of which 
I have been thus attempting to vindicate the propriety, it 
has been objected, both by Mr. Burke and Mr. Price, 
that it has a tendency to produce a confusion of ideas, and 
to give rise to iil-judged appHcations of the term. The 
ihconveniencies, however, of which they complain, appear 
to me to have arisen entirely from their own inattention to 
a very important distinction among the various elements, 
or ingredients, which may enter into the composition of 
the Beautiful. Of these elements, there are some which 
are themselves intrinsically pleasing, without a reference 
to any thing else; there are others which please only in a 
state of combination. Thus there are certain colours which 
every person would pronounce to be pleasing, when pre- 
sented singly to the eye; there are others, which, without 
possessing any such recommendation, produce a pleasing 
effect when happily assorted. The Beauty of the former 
may be said to be absolute or intrinsic; that of the latter 
to be only relative. 

Numberless other instances might be mentioned of 
things that have only a relative beauty. This, indeed, is 
the case with most things which nature has destined to be 
only parts of some whole; and which, accordingly, are 
beautiful only in their proper places, A few years ago, it 



Ghap. V.3 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 281 

was not unusual to see a picture of a lady's eye in the pos^ 
session of her friend or admirer; and there is a possibility 
that the effect might not be disagreeable to those whose 
memory was able to supply readily the rest of the features. 
To a stranger (if I may judge from my own feelings) it 
was scarcely less offensive than if it had been painted in 
the middle of her forehead. 

In reasoning about the Beautiful, Mr. Burke confines 
his attention, almost exclusively, to those elements of 
Beauty which are intrinsically pleasing, assuming it pro- 
bably in his own mind, as self-evident, that Beauty, when 
exhibited in the works of nature, and in the compositions 
of art, is produced by a combination of these alone. If, 
instead of following this synthetical process, he had be- 
gun with considering the beautiful in its more complicated 
forms, (the point of view unquestionably in which it is 
most interesting to a philosopher to examine it, when his 
aim is to illustrate its relation to the power of taste,) he 
could not have failed to have been led analytically to this 
distinction between the intrinsic and the relative beauties 
of its constituent elements, and to perceive that the one 
class is as essential as the other to the general result. 

The same remark may be extended to that external 
sense from which the power of taste borrows its name; 
and to which, in a variety of respects, it will be found to 
bear a very close analogy. Among simple tastes, such as 
sweet, sour, bitter, hot, pungent, there are some which 
are intrinsically grateful; while others, which are not less 
necessary ingredients in some of our most delicious mix- 
tures, are positively disagreeable in a separate state. At 
the head of the former class, srweet seems to be placed by 

2N 



282 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [_Essay t 

universal consent; and accordingly it is called by Mr. 
Burke the beautiful of taste. In speaking, however, of 
those more refined and varied gratifications of the palate 
to which the arts of luxury minister, it is not to any one 
simple taste, but to mixtures, or compositions resulting 
from a skilful combination of them, that the epithet 
beautiful (supposing this new phraseology to be adopt- 
ed) ought, according to strict analogy, to be applied. 
Agreeably to this view of the subject, srveet may be said 
to be intrinsieally pleasing, and bitter to be relatively pleas- 
ing; while both are, in many cases, equally essential to 
those effects, which, in the art of cookery, correspond to 
that composite beauty, which it is the object of the painter 
and of the poet to create. 

A great deal of what Mr. Prjce has so ingeniously ob- 
served with respect to the picturesque, is applicable to 
what 1 have here called relative beauties; and so far as 
this is the case, instead of niaking the Picturesque a dis- 
tinct genus from the Beautiful, it would certainly have 
been more logical to say, that the former is, in some cases, 
an important element in the composition of the latter. For 
my own part, I cannot conceive any principle whatever, 
on which we can reasonably refuse a place among the 
elements or constituents of beauty, to a class of qualities 
whigh are acknowledged, on all hands, to render what was 
formerly beautiful, more beautiful still. 

But it is not on this ground alone that I object to Mr. 
Price's language. The meaning he has annexed to the 
word picturesque seems to me to be equally exceptionable 
with the limited and arbitrary notion concerning the beau^ 
tiful, which he has adopted from Mr. Burke. In both 



Chap. V.3 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 283 

cases, he has departed widely from established use; and, 
in consequence of this, when he comes to compare, ac- 
cording to his peculiar definitions, the picturesque and 
the beautiful togtihtY^ he has given to many observations, 
equally just and refined, an air of paradox, which might 
have been easify avoided, by employ mg a more cautious 
phraseology. In justification of this criticism, it is neces- 
sary to introduce here a few remarks on the different 
acceptations in which the epithet picturesque has been 
hitherto understood in this country, since it was natural- 
ized by the authority of our classical writers.^ 

And first, as to the oldest and most general use of the 
word; it seems to me an unquestionable proposition, 
That if this is to be appealed to as the standard of pro- 
priety, the word does not refer immediately to landscapes, 
or to any visible objects, but to verbal description. It 
means that graphical power by which poetry and elo- 
quence produce efiects on the mind analogous to those 
of a picture. Thus every person would naturally apply 
the epithet to the following description of a thunder-storm 
in Thomson's Seasons: 

" Black from the stroke above, the mountain-pine, 

** A leaning shatter'd trunk, stands scath'd to heaven, 

*' The talk of future ages; and below, 

" A lifeless group the blasted cattle lie; 

** Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look 

*'• They wore alive, and ruminating still 

" In fancy's eye; and there the frowning bull 

" And ox half raised." 

To prevent, however, any misapprehensions of my 

* See Note (T). 



284 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

meaning, it is proper to add, that, in speaking of the ^m- 
phical power of poetry and eloquence, I would not be 
understood to limit that epithet (according to its etymo- 
logy) to objects of Sight; but to extend it to all those de- 
tails, of whatever kind, by a happy selection of which the 
imagination may be forcibly impressed. In the following 
sentence, Dr. Warton applies the word picturesque (and 
I think with the most exact propriety) to a passage of 
Thomson, where it is somewhat curious, that every cir- 
cumstance mentioned recals some impression upon the 
Ear alone. 

" How full," (says Warton) " how particular and j&f^- 
" turesque^ is this assemblage of circumstances, that at- 
** tend a very keen frost in a night of winter!" 

" Loud rings the frozen earth and hard reflects 

" A double noise; while at his evening watch, 

" The village dog deters the nightly thief: 

" The heifer lows; the distant waterfall 

" Swells in the breeze; and with the hasty tread 

" Of traveller, the hollow -sounding plain 

*' Shakes from afar." 

This use of the word picturesque is analogous to the 
common signification of other words which have a similar 
termination, and are borrowed from the Italian, through 
the medium of the French. The word arabesque, for ex- 
ample, expresses something which is executed in the 
style of the Arabians; moresque, something in the style 
of the Moors; and grotesque, something bearing a re* 
semblance to certain whimsical paintings found in a 
grotto, or subterraneous apartment at Rome. In like man- 



Chap. V. J ON,THE BEAUTIFUi.. 285 

ner, picturesque properly means what is done in the style, 
and with the spirit of a painter; and it w^as thus, if I am 
not much mistaken, that the word was commonly em- 
ployed, when it was first adopted in England. Agreeably 
to the same idea, the Persians, it is said, distinguish the 
different degrees of descriptive power in different writers, 
by calling them painters or sculptors: in allusion to which 
practice, the tide of a sculptor-poet)\2iS been bestowed by 
a very ingenious critic on Lucretius, in consequence of 
the singularly bold relief which he gives to his images.*' 

Of late years, since a taste for landscape-painting came 
to be fashionable in this island, the word picturesque has 
been frequently employed to denote those combinations 
or groups or attitudes of objects, that are fitted for the 
purposes of the painter. It is in this sense that the word 
is used by Mr. Gilpin in his Observations on Picturesque 
Beauty; and I am inclined to think, that it is in this sense 
it is now most commonly understood, in speaking of 
natural scenery, or of the works of the architect. 

I do not object to this employment of the word, (al- 
though I certainly think it an innovation) for it conveys 
a clear and definite idea, and one for which there was no 
appropriate expression in our language. Nor do I see 
any impropriety in connecting the words Picturesque and 
Beauty together; for although an object may be beautiful 
without being picturesque, or picturesque widiout being 
beautiful, yet there is not any inconsistency or incompati- 
bility in the ideas. On the contrary, it is only w^hen the 
two qualities are united, that landscape- painting produces 
its highest effect. f 

*Dr. Warton, Essay on the Genius of Pope, Vol. II. p. 165, 
t See Note (U). 



286 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Ess«t T 

According to Mr. Price, the phrase Picturesque Beauty 
is little better than a contradiction in terms; but although 
this may be the case in the arbitrary interpretation which 
he has given to both these words, there is certainly no 
contradiction in the expression, if we employ Beauty in 
its ordinary sense, and Picturesque in the sense very dis- 
tinctly stated in Mr. Gilpin's definition.^ 

The same remark may be extended to the Sublime; 
between which and the Beautiful, there certainly does not 
exist that incongruity which most English writers have of 
late been pleased to suppose. f The subliine beauties of 
nature; the sublime beauties of the sacred writings; — as it 

* Mr. Price himself appears to be sensible of this, from the paren- 
thesis in the following sentence: "There is nothing more ill judged, 
»' or more likely to create confusion, (if we agree with Mr. Burke in 
" his idea of beauty,) than the joining of it to the picturesque, and 
" calling the character by the title of Picturesque Beauty." — (Page 

42.) 

fThe prevalence of this idea (which does not seem to have gain- 
ed much ground on the continent) is to be ascribed chiefly to the 
weight of Mr. Burke's authority. To many of the passages which 
both he and Dr. Blair have quoted from poets and orators, as exam- 
ples of the Sublime^ a Frenchman would undoubtedly consider the 
epithet Beau as at least equally applicable. 

Mr. Burke's theory concerning the connection between Beauty 
and Smalhiess, could not fail to confirm him in his opinion of the 
incompatibility of the Beautiful with the Sublime. In this theory 
also, he has founded a general conclusion on certain local or tempo- 
rary modes of judging, instead of consulting that more important 
class of facts confirmed by the consent of different ages and nations. 

With respect to the taste of the ancient Greeks upon this subject, 
according to which Magnitude and Strength were considered as in- 
gredients in the Beauty even of the female form, see the very learn- 
ed and ingenious notes, subjoined by Mr. Twining to his excellent 
translation of Aristotle's Treatise on Poetry, pp. 263, 264, 265. 

From the contrast perpetually stated between the meanings of the 
words Beau and JoUy Mr. Price concludes, that " the French, like 



CJiap. V.J ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 287 

is one of the most common, so it is also one of the most 
intelligible forms of expression employed by critics. The 
Sublime and the Picturesque, therefore, it Vw'ould appear, 
are most properly used as qualifying epithets, to limit the 
meaning of the generic name Beauty in particular in- 
stances. A great variety of other epithets besides these 
are found to be necessary, for the expression of our feel- 
ings on different occasions. It is thus that we speak of 
the simple beauties of the Doric order; and of the rich 
or ornamented beauties of the Corinthian. It is thus that 
we contrast with the wild and savage beauties of Nature, 
the regular, the refined, the chaste, the finished, the clas- 
sical beauties of Art. It is thus, too, that we contrast, in 
the well-known picture of Garrick, the beauties of the tra- 
gic with those of the comic muse; or, in the poetry of 
Milton, the gay and lively beauties of his Allegro with 

" the more ancient Greeks, appear* to have considered large stature 
" as almost a requisite of beauty, and not only in men. but in women." 
In this inference I am inclined to agree with him; although I must, 
at the same time, confess, that I know of no French writer, (not ex- 
cepting the Abbe Girard) who has enabled me to draw a line between 
these two epithets, completely satisfactory to myself. I recollect at 
present two instances, in which I should be glad to see their respec- 
tive imports happily translated into our language. In the first, both 
epithets are applied to the same person, and at the same period of 
her life; and, consequently, the one is not absolutely exclusive of 
the other. In neither instance, can the contrast turn, in the slightest 
degree, on any circumstance connected with stature. 

" Seliane, dans sa jcunesse, avoit ete joiie et belle: elle etoit belle 
"encore; mais elle commencoit a n'etre plus jolie." — MarmonteJ, 
(Xes Quatre Flacons.^ 

*' Une femme ne pent gueres etre belle que d'une fa^on, mais elle 
" est jolie de cent mille." — Montesquieu, {Essai Sur le Gout.) 

* Pp. 16 and 21, of the Essay on Beauty, prefixed to Mr. Price's Dialog-ue.. 



288 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

the serious and melancholy beauties of his Penseroso, 
In a word, to oppose the Beautiful to the Sublime, or to 
the Picturesque, strikes me as something analogous to a, 
contrast between the Beautiful and the Comic; the Beau- 
tiful and the Tragic; the Beautiful and the Pathetic; or 
the Beautiful and the Romantic. 

I have said, that it is only when the Beautiful and the 
Picturesque are united, that landscape-painting produces 
its highest effect. The truth of this proposition seems to 
be unquestionable, unless we suppose, that no part of the 
effect of a picture arises from its conveying the idea of a 
beautiful original. 

It is true that, in the details of a landscape, there are 
often many circumstances possessing no intrinsic beauty, 
which have a far happier effect than the highest beauties 
which could be substituted in their place. On examina- 
tion, however, it will be found, that the effect of these 
circumstances does not depend on their intrinsic qualities, 
but on their accidental significance or expression, as hints 
to the imagination; and therefore, if we apply to such 
circumstances the epithet picturesque,^ (which is a use of 
the word not very remote from its meaning, when appli- 

* Neither Mr. Price nor Mr. Gilpin appear to me to have been 
sufficiently aware of the difference between the meaning which they 
annex to the word Picturesque, when applied to those details in a 
landscape, which are peculiarly characteristic and expressive, and 
its meaning when applied to the general design and composition of 
the piece. In the former sense, it conveys an idea quite distinct 
from the Beautiful, and (as w411 afterwards appear) sometimes at va- 
riance with it. In the other sense, there can be no doubt that the 
beauty of the scene represented wall add proportionally to the pleas- 
ing effect of the picture. 

2 



CJiap. V.J ON THE BEAUTIFLX. ^ 289 

ed to verbal description) that the pleasure which the pic- 
turesque in this case conveys, is uhimately resolvable into 
that which is connected by means of association with the 
perception of the beautiful. Its effect depends on its power 
of conveying to the fancy more than the pencil of the 
artist has delineated, and consequently is to be referred 
ultimately to the beauties which are supplied or understood; 
for the same reason that the pleasing effect of the profile, 
or silhouette^ of a beautiful woman is ultimately to be 
referred, not to what is seen, but to what is recalled to 
the memory; or (to take an instance still more general in 
its application) for the same reason that the pathetic effect 
of the veil thrown over the face of Agamemnon, in the 
Iphigenia of Timanthes, v/as owing, not to the veil, but 
to the features which it was imagined to conceal. '' Vela- 
*' vit ejus caput (says Quinctilian) et suo cuique animo 
" dedit ssstimandum." Of the same painter it is observed 
by Pliny: "In omnibus ejus operibus inteliigitur plus 
" semper quam pingitur." 

Among the various applications of the word Pictu- 
resque to painting, this last use of it is more closely ana- 
logous to its primary application to verbal description, 
than any of the others. In this sense, (which, for the sake 
of distinctness, I shall call its poetical sense) it does not 
denote what is actually represented; but what sets the 
imagination at work, in forming pictures of its own; or, 
in other words, those parts of a picture, where more is 
meant and suggested than meets the eye. Of this sort is 
a group of cattle standing in a river, or collected under 
the shade of a tree, when introduced into a landscape, to 
recal the impressions and scenery of a summer noon; — a 

20 



290 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

ruined castle or abbey employed to awaken the memory 
of former times, accompanied with those feudal or mo- 
nastic visions so dear to a romantic fancy; with number- 
less other instances of a similar sort, which must imme- 
diately occur to all my readers. 

For some reasons, which will afterwards appear, the 
word Picturesque, in this poetical sense, is applicable to 
many of the objects which are also picturesque, according 
to Mr. Gilpin's definition; and which, at the same time, 
unite the most remarkable of those properties which Mr. 
Price has pointed out, as distinguishing the Picturesque 
from the Beautiful. Hence these ingenious writers have 
been led, on several occasions, to ascribe much more ef- 
fect to the mere visible appearance of such objects, than 
really belongs to it. An example of this occurs in the 
stress which they have very justly laid on the form of the 
Ass, as peculiarly adapted to the artist's pencil; a form 
which they have both pronounced to be picturesque in an 
eminent degree. 

But the Ass, it must be remembered, has, beside his 
appearance, strong claims, on other accounts, to the pain- 
ter's attention. Few animals have so powerful an effect in 
awakening associated ideas and feelings; and accordingly, 
it is eminently Picturesque, in the poetical sense of that 
word, as well as in the acceptation in which it is under- 
stood by Mr. Price. Not to speak of the frequent allusions 
to it in Holy Writ, what interest are we led to attach to 
it in our early years, by the Fables of iEsop; by the 
similes of Homer; by the exploits of Don Quixote; by 
the pictures which it recals to us of the bye-paths in the 
forest, where we have so often met with it as the beast of 



Ohap.V.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL, 291 

burden, and the associate of the vagrant poor, or where 
we have stopped to gaze on the infant beauties which it 
carried in its panniers; — in fine, by the circumstances 
which have called fordi, in its eulogy, one of the most 
pleasing efforts of Buifon's eloquence; its own quiet and 
inoffensive manners, and the patience with which it sub- 
mits to its life of drudgery. It is worthy, too, of remark, 
that this animal, when we meet with it in painting, is sel- 
dom the common ass of our own country, but the ass 
ennobled by the painter's taste; or copied from the ani- 
mal of the same species, which we have seen in the patri» 
archal journeys, and other scripture- pieces of eminent 
masters. In consequence of this circumstance, a pleasing 
association, arising from the many beautiful compositions 
of which it forms a part, comes to be added to its other 
recommendations already mentioned, and has secured to 
it a rank on the canvas, which the degradation of its name 
will for ever prevent it from attaining in the works of our 
English poets. 

These observations may be extended, in some degree 
also, to the Goat; strongly associated as its figure is vvith 
the romantic scenes of an Alpine region; and with the 
precipitous cliffs, where it has occasionally caught our 
eye, browsing on the pendent shrubs in security and soli- 
tude. 

With respect to the peculiarities in point of form, co- 
louring, roughness of coat, &c. to which, according to 
Mr. Gilpin and Mr. Price, both these animals owe their 
Picturesque character, they seem to me to operate chiefly 
by the stimulus they give to the powers of imagination 
and of memory. Where this is the end which the artist 



292 ON THE I&EAUTIFUL. [Essay 1. 

has in view, ^uch forms and colours possess important 
and obvious advantages over those which are much more 
decidedly beautiful; inasmuch as these last, by the im- 
mediate pleasure which they communicate to the organ, 
have a tendency to arrest the progress of our thoughts, 
and to engage the whole of our attention to themselves. 

It is scarcely necessary for me to add, that a great part 
of what has just been observed, is applicable to the art 
of embellishing real scenery, as well as to the composi- 
tions of the painter. Many of Mr. Price's suggestions for 
giving a Picturesque character to grounds and to build- 
ings, turn upon circumstances which owe their whole 
effect to their poetical expression. 

When these different considerations are combined to- 
gether, there will not, I apprehend, appear to be any 
sound foundation for distinguishing the Picturesque from 
the Beautiful as a quality essentially different; the pleasure 
we receive from the former, resolving either into that 
arising from the conception or imagination of understood 
beauties, or into the accessary pleasures excited in the 
mind, by means of the associating principle. 

On other occasions, the distinction stated by Mr. Price 
between the Picturesque and the Beautiful coincides with 
the distinction between natural and artificial beauty; and 
the rules he gives for producing the Picturesque resolve 
into the old precept of employing art to conceal her own 
operations. In these, as indeed in all other cases, his rules 
(as far as I am able to judge) are the result of exquisite 
taste, and evince habits of the nicest and most discrimi- 
nating observation; and it is only to be regretted that he 



Gbap. V.J ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 293 

had not been more fortunate in the choice, and more con- 
sistent in the use of his phraseology.^ 

Notwithstanding, however, these occasional variations 
in his interpretation of the word Picturesque, the prevail- 
ing idea which he annexes to it, throughout his work, 
coincides very nearly with the definition of Mr. Gilpin. 
In proof of this, it is sufficient to mention, that, in his title 
page, what he professes to treat of, is, the advantage to 
be derived from the study of paintings in improving real 
landscape; a circumstance which shews plainly, that it was 
this notion of the Picturesque which was predominant in 
his mind while he was employed in the cqmposition. The 
truth of the doctrine which he thus announces as his prin- 
cipal subject, I am by no means disposed to dispute; but 
some limitations of it occur to me as so indispensably 
necessary, that I shall slightly touch upon one or two of 
the most important, before I conclude this chapter. 

That the Picturesque (according to Mr. Gilpin's defi- 
nition of it) does not always coincide with what the eye 
pronounces to be Beautiful in the reality, has been often 
observed; and is, indeed, an obvious consequence of the 
limited powers of painting, and of the limited range of 
objects which the artist can present to the eye at once. 
Mo pencil can convey to us a pleasure bearing any resem- 

* In some of the passages which I allude to at present, the word 
Jiicturesque seems to be synonyitious with romaiiticy as formerly ap- 
plied by our English writers to wild scenery. — Milton uses gro- 
t€S(jue nearly in the same sense: 

" The champaign head 
**Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides 
" With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, 
** Access deny'd." 



294 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

blance to that which we receive, when we enjoy, from a 
commanding eminence, an extensive prospect of a rich 
champaign country, or a boundless view of the ocean; nor 
can it copy, with any success, many other of the most 
engaging aspects of nature. The painter, accordingly, 
when he attempts a portrait of real landscape, is obliged 
to seize such points of view as are adapted to the circum- 
scribed resources of his art; and, in his observation of 
Nature, is unavoidably led to the study of what Mr. Gil- 
pin calls picturesque effect. By these habits of study, he 
cannot fail to acquire a new interest in the beautiful ob- 
jects he meets with; a critical discrimination in his per- 
ceptions, unknown to common spectators; and a sensibi- 
lity to many pleasing details, which to them are invisible. 
*' Quam multa vident pictores" (says Cicero, in the words 
of Mr. Price's motto) *' in umbris et in eminentia quaa nos 
'' non videmus!" Nor is this all. To the pleasure arising 
from what is presented to his senses, is superadded that 
which he anticipates from the exercise of his own art; or 
those which are revived in his memory, by the resem- 
blance of what he sees to the compositions of his favorite 
masters. The most trifling accident of scenery^ it is evi- 
dent, (at least the most trifling to an unskilled eye) may 
thus possess, in his estimation, a value superior to that 
which he ascribes to beauties of a far higher order; his 
imagination, in some cases, filling up the picture where 
nature has but faintly sketched the outline; in other cases, 
the reality borrowing a charm from some associated paint- 
ing, — as, in the judgment of the multitude, paintings 
borrow their principal charm from associated realities. 
While the studies of the painter contribute, in this 



Chap. V.J ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 295 

manner, to create a relish for the beautiful picturesque^ is 
there no danger that they may produce, in a limited mind, 
habits of inattention or of indift'erence to those natural 
beauties which defy the imitation of the pencil; and that 
his taste may become, in time, circumscribed like the 
canvas upon which he works? I think I have perceived, 
in some artists and connoisseurs, examples of this, within 
the narrow circle of my own observation. In such cases, 
we might almost be tempted to reverse the question in 
Mr. Price's motto; — quam multa videmus nos quae pic- 
tores non vident! 

As to the application of the knowledge thus acquired 
from the study of paintings, to the improvement of natu- 
ral landscape, I have no doubt that, to a superior under- 
standing and taste, like those of Mr. Price, it may often 
suggest very useful hints; but if recognized as the stand- 
ard to which the ultimate appeal is to be made, it would 
infallibly cover the face of the country with a new and 
systematical species of affectation, not less remote than 
that of Brown, from the style of gardening which he 
wishes to recommend. 

To this it may be added, that, as an object which is 
offensive in the reality may please in painting; so many 
things which would offend in painting, may yet please in 
the reality. If, in some respects, therefore, the study of 
painting is a useful auxiliary in the art of creating land- 
scape; in others, there is, at least, a possibility that it may 
lead the judgment astray, or impose unnecessary fetters 
on an inventive imagination. 

I have only to remark farther, that, in laying out 
grounds, still more, perhaps, than in any other of the fine 



296 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay t 

arts, the primary object of a good taste is, not to please 
the connoisseur, but to please the enlightened admirer 
and lover of nature. The perfection of all these arts is un- 
doubtedly to give pleasure to both; as they always will, 
and must do, when the taste of the connoisseur is guided 
by good sense and philosophy. Pliny justly considered it 
as the highest praise he could bestow on the exquisite 
beauties of a Corinthian antique, when he sums up his 
description of them, by observing, — *' Talia denique om- 
*' nia, ut possint artificum oculos tenere, delectare impe- 
*' ritorum." Objects, of whatever kind, which please the 
connoisseur alone, prove only that there is something 
fundamentally wrong in the principles upon which he 
judges; and most of all do they authorize this conclusion, 
when Nature herself is the subject upon which the artist 
is to operate, and w^here the chief glory of Art is to work 
:imseen. 

Upon the whole, let painting be allowed its due praise 
in quickening our attention to the beauties of nature; in 
multiplying our resources for their further embellishment; 
and in holding up a standard, from age to age, to correct 
the caprices of fashionable innovations; but let our taste 
for these beauties be chiefly formed on the study of Na- 
ture herself; — nor let us ever forget so far what is due to 
her indisputable and salutary prerogative, as to attempt 
an encroachment upon it by laws, which derive the whole 
of their validity from her own sanction.*- 

* "I shall add no more to what I have here offered, than that mu- 
" sic, architecture, and painting, as well as poetry and oratory, are 
<' to deduce their laws and rules from the general sense and taste of 
"mankind, and not from the principles of these arts themselves; or, 
" in other words, that the taste is not to conform to the art, but the 
" art to the taste." — Spectator, No. 29. 

2 



Chap. VI.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 297 



CHAPTER SIXTH. 

«F THE APPLICATION OF THE THEORY OF ASSOCIATION TO BEAUTY. 
FARTHER GENERALIZATIONS OF THIS WORD, IN CONSEQUENCE OF 
THE INFLUENCE OF THE ASSOCIATING PRI?!CIPLE. 

IN the foregoing remarks on Beauty, although I have 
©ccasionally aUucled to the Association of Ideas, I have 
avoided all discussion with respect to the extent of its in- 
fluence. It is necessary for me, however, now to consider, 
at some length, the effects of a principle which, in the 
opinion of many philosophers, furnishes a complete ex- 
planation of all the phenomena which have been under 
our consideration; and which must be acknowledged, 
even by those who do not go so far, to be deeply concern- 
ed in the production of most of them. 

I had occasion to observe, in a former publication, that 
the theory which resolves the whole eifect of beautiful 
objects into Association, must necessarily involve that spe- 
cies of paralogism, to which logicians give the name of 
reasoning in a circle. It is the province of association to 
impart to one thing the agreeable or the disagreeable ef- 
fect of another; but association can never account for the 
origin of a class of pleasures different in kind from all the 
others we know. If there was nothing originally and in- 
trinsically pleasing or beautiful, the associating principle 
would have no materials on which it could operate. 

Among the writers who have attempted to illustrate the 

2P 



^93 ON THE BEAUTIFUI.. [Ess^yi, 

great influence of Association on our judgments concern- 
ing the Beautiful, I do not know of any who seem to have 
been completely aware of the force of this objection but 
Mr. Alison; and accordingly the fundamental idea which 
runs through his book, and which, in my opinion, is 
equally refined and just, is entirely his own. He does not 
deny, that, independently of custom and habit, there are 
numberless sources of enjoyment in the human frame, 
arising from its adaptation to the various objects around 
it. He only asserts, that a large proportion of the qualities 
which produce these pleasures, although they cannot be 
called Beautiful, while they affect the bodily organs im- 
mediately, may yet enter largely, by means of the Asso- 
ciation of Ideas, into the beauty of the visible creation. 
Thus, the qualities which excite the agreeable sensations 
exclusively appropriated to the nostrils, cannot be said to 
be beautiful, without departing altogether from the com- 
mon use of language; but who will deny, that the pleasing 
effect produced by the form and colour of a rose, even 
when view^ed at a distance, is heightened by the sweet 
fragrance which we know that it possesses? The effect 
of the appearance here presented to the eye, and that of 
the associated pleasure, are so intimately and so necessa- 
rily blended together in the mind of every individual, that 
it is impossible for any person to say, how much of the 
complicated delight is to be ascribed to each of the two 
ingredients; and therefore, the pleasing conception which 
is linked with the appearance of the object, no less than 
the appearance itself, may be justly regarded as a consti- 
tuent of its Beauty: it is unquestionably the union of both 
v;hich has secured to the Rose her indisputed title, as 



Chai.. Vt] ON THE BEAUTIFUL 299 

Queen of Flowers. The principle of Association is not, 
in this instance, employed to account for the pleasing ef- 
fect which the smell of the rose produces on its appropriate 
sense; but to explain in what manner the recollection of 
this agreeable sensation may enter, as an element, into the 
composition of an order of pleasures distinguished by a 
different name, and classed with the pleasures of a differ- 
ent organ. In so far, therefore, as the sensations of smelli- 
ing minister to the Beauty of nature, it may, with great 
correctness, be said, that they do so only through the me- 
dium of that principle, which combines the conception of 
them in the mind of the spectator with the perception of 
the colours and the forms exhibited to his eye. 

What has now been remarked with respect to smeU^ 
is applicable to every other pleasing impression or emo- 
tion which Association can attach to a visible object. In 
consequence of the close relation which subsists between 
the senses of seeing and of touch, it applies with peculiar 
force to those things about which the latter sense is likely 
to be employed; and hence, in many instances, the influ- 
ence (formerly explained) of ideas connected with the 
perceptions of the hand, in modifying the judgments con- 
cerning Beauty, which the eye pronounces.* 

It is, however, chiefly by intellectual and moral associa* 



* " Chaque sens, paf un heureux concours, 

" Prete aux sens allies un mutuel secours; 

" Le frais gazon des eaux m'embellit leur murmure, 

" Leur murmure, a son tour, m'embellit la verdure. 

" L'odorat sert le gout, et I'oeil sert Todorat; 

" L'haleine de la rose ajoute a son eclat; 

" Et d'un ambre flatteur la peche parfumee, 

" Parait plus savoureuse a la bouche embaumee; 



300 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

tions, that our notions of Beauty are influenced. How 
powerful the charm is which may be thus communicated 
to things of little intrinsic interest, may be judged of from 
the fond partiality with which we continue, through the 
whole of life, to contrast the banks and streams of our in- 
fancy and youth, with ^* other banks and other str earns, "^^^ 
In this manner, by means of association, any one pleashig 
circumstance or occurrence in nature, hiow remote soever 
in itself from the idea of the Beautiful, may be yet so com- 
bined in our imagination with the Beautiful properly so 
called, that no philosophical analysis can separate them 
in their effect. On such occasions, the task of the philo- 
sopher is limited to the gratification of a speculative cu- 
riosity in collecting new illustrations of his theories; or 
(where he experiences the inconveniences of his own early 
prepossessions) to a more judicious regulation of the 
habits of others, whose associations are yet to be formed. 
But on this view of the subject, although I consider it 
as by far the most curious and important of any, I do not 
mean to enlarge. The strong and happy lights which have 
been thrown upon it by Mr. Alison, render any farther 
illustration of it superfluous; and leave me nothing to 
add, in this part of my argument, but a few slight hints, 
tending to connect some of his conclusions with that 

" Voyez Tamour heureux par un double larcin! 
" La main invite I'oeil, I'oeii appelle la main, 
" Et d'une bouche fraiche on le baiser repose 
" Le parfum est plus doux sur de.s levres de rose. 
" Ainsi tout se repond, et doubiant leurs plaisirs, 
*' Tous les sens Tun de I'autre eveillent les desirs.*' 

De Lille. — L'Imagination, Chant L 

* Shenstone. Ode to Memory. 



Chap. VI.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 301 

peculiar idea of Beauty which I have been attempting- 
to develope. 

It is scarcely necessary for me to observe, that, in those 
instances where Association operates in heightening tlic 
pleasures we receive from sight, the pleasing emotion con- 
tinues still to appear, to our consciousness, simple and 
uncompounded. How little soever the qualities that are 
visible may in themselves contribute to the joint result, it 
is these qualities which solely, or at least chiefly, occupy 
our attention. The object seems really invested with the 
charms which we ourselves have lent to it; and so com- 
pletely are these charms united, in our apprehensions, 
with those attached to the organic impression, that we 
never think of referring them to different causes; but con- 
ceive that the Beauty of the object increases in proportion 
to the rapture with which we gaze on it. Hence the sur- 
prise and disappointment we are apt to feel, when we 
strive in vain, by an exhibition of the supposed cause of 
our delight, to impart to a stranger an enthusiasm similar 
to our own: And hence, upon all questions in which the 
affections are concerned, a diversity in the tastes and pre- 
dilections of individuals, which is not to be reconciled by 
any general principles drawn from the philosophy of the 
human mind. 

Nor is there any thing in this process different from 
what the analogy of our other perceptions would lead us 
to expect. If the constant coexistence of two such hete- 
rogeneous qualities as colour and extension in the objects 
of sight, renders them completely inseparable in our 
thoughts, why should we wonder, that the intellectual and 
more fugitive elements of Beauty, should be insensibly 



302 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay 1 

identified with whatever forms and colours may chance 
to embody them to the eye or to the fancy? 

The most striking illustration of this that can be pro- 
duced is, the complicated assemblage of charms, physical 
and moral, which enter into the composition of Female 
Beauty. What philosopher can presume to analyze the 
different ingredients; or to assign to matter and to mind 
their respective shares in exciting the emotion which he 
feels? I believe, for my own part, that the effect depends 
chiefly on the Mind; and that the loveliest features, if di- 
vested of their expression, would be beheld with indif- 
ference. But no person thus philosophizes when the ob- 
ject is before him, or dreams of any source of his plea^ 
sure, but that Beauty which fixes his gaze. 

With what admirable precision and delicacy are its un« 
definable elements touched on in the following verses! 

" Rien ne manque a Venus, ni les lys, ni les roses, 

" Ni le melange exquis des plus aimables choses, 
" Ni ce charme secret dont Toeil est enchaiite, 
" Ni la grace plus bellp encore que la beaute."* 

In Homer's description of Juno, when attiring herself 
to deceive Jupiter, by trying " the old^ yet still successful 
" cheat of love;''' it is remarkable, that the poet leaves to 
her own fancy the whole task of adorning and heighten- 
ing her personal attractions; but when she requests Venus 
to grant her 

" Those conqu'ring charms, 
" That power which mortals and immortals warms.''-— 

* La Fontaine. Adonis. 



Chap. VI.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 303 

The gifts which she receives are, all of them, significant 
of mental qualities alone: 

" The gentle vow, the gay desire, 
" The kind deceit, the still reviving fire, 
" Persuasive speech, and more persuasive sighs. 
" Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes." 

The exquisite allegory of the Cestus, expresses, in one 
single word, how innumerable and ineiFable were the en- 
chantments, visible and invisible, which the Goddess of 
Love mingled together, in binding her omnipotent spell.* 

The intimate combination which, in this and various 
other cases, exists between the immediate objects of sight, 
and the moral ideas they suggest, led, in ancient times, 
Plato, as well as his master Socrates, and many later phi- 
losophers of the same school, to conclude, that the word 
Beauty, in its literal acceptation, denotes a quality, not of 
matter^ but of mind; and that, as the light we admire on 

* I have adopted in the text, Pope's version, (though somewhat 
paraphrastical) in preference to the original; as it combines at once 
the authority of ancient and of modern taste, in confirmation of the 
point which it is brought to illustrate. The words of Homer are at 
least equally apposite to my purpose with those of his translator: 

Theje ne sgais quoi of the French, and the fortunate phrase in an 
English song, (" the provoking charm of Calia altogether") have 
been suggested by the same feeling with respect to the problematical 
essence of female beauty. The very word charm^ when its different 
meanings are attentively considered, will be found an additional con- 
firmation of this remark. 

** Tis not a lip or eye, we Beauty call, 

" But the joint force and full result of all." 



304 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

the discs of the moon and planets is, when traced to its 
original source, the light of the sun, so what is commonly- 
called the beauty of the material world, is but a reilection 
from those primitive and underived beauties, which the 
intellectual eye can alone perceive. 

I have already said, that, in my opinion, the chief effect 
of Female Beauty depends on Expression. — A similar 
remark may be applied (though perhaps not altogether in 
the same extent) to the Material Universe in general; the 
Beauty of which, it cannot be denied, is wonderfully 
heightened to those who are able to read in it the expres- 
sive characters of a governing inteUigence. But still I 
think that Beauty, in its literal sense, denotes what is pre- 
sented to the organ of Sight; and that it is afterwards 
transferred to moral qualities by an associating process, 
similar to that which combines the smell of a rose with its 
beautiful form and colour; or which embellishes our na- 
tive spot with the charms which it borrows from the plea- 
sures of memory. The chief difference between the cases 
here mentioned, consists in the intimate and inseparable 
union, which, in the human face, connects soul and body 
with each other; a union to which nothing completely 
analogous occurs in any other association whatsoever. 

" Her pure and eloquent blood 
" Spoke in her clieek, and so distinctly wrought, 
*' That one might almost say her body thought.^* 

To the peculiar intimacy of this connection, (which, 
as long as the beautiful object is under our survey, blends 
the qualities of matter and those of mind in one common 
perception,) it seems to be owing, that the word Beauty 

2 



Chap. VL] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 305 

comes, in process of time, to be applied to certain moral 
qualities considered abstractly.* The qualities which are 
thus characterized in ordinary discourse, are, in truth, 
exactly those which it gives us the greatest delight to see 
expressed in the countenance; f or such as have a ten- 
dency (which is the case with various affections of the 
mind) to improve the visible beauty which the features 
exhibit. Is it surprising, that, to a person who has been 
accustomed to apply the epithet Beautiful to the smile of 
complacency and kindness, the same epithet should natu= 
rally occur as expressively characteristical of the disposi- 
tion and temper, which it is the study of Beauty to display, 
when solicitous to assume her most w^inning form? Such 
transition^ in the use of words, are daily exemplified in 
all the various subjects about which language is employ « 
^d: And, in the present instance, the transition is so easy 
and obvious, that we are at a loss to say which is the 
literal and which the metaphorical meaning. 

Tn the cases which have been hitherto under our con- 



* Such too seems to have been the opinion of Cicero, from the fol- 
lowing passage, which coincides remarkably, in more respects than 
one, with the doctrine maintained in the text: 

" Itaque eoriim ipsorum, qu(je achfiectu sentiuntur^ nullum aliud 
^^ animal puichritudinem, venustatem, convenientiam panium sentit; 
" quam similitudinem natura ratioque ab oculis ad animum transfer- 
" ens, multo etiam magis puichritudinem, constantiam, ordinem in 
"consiliis factisque conservandum putat, &c. Sec. Formam quidem 
" ipsam, Marce fili, et tanquam faciem Honesti vides; quse, sioculifi 
'' cerneretur, mirabiles amores (ut ait Plato) excitaret sapienti^."~-» 
De offic. Lib. i. 

Mem. Lib. iiL cap. x- 



2Q 



306 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

sideration, the visible object^ if it is not the physical cause^ 
furnishes, at least, the occasion of the pleasure we feel; 
and it is on the eye alone that any organic impression is 
supposed to be made. Our other senses, indeed, fre- 
quently contribute to the effect; but they do so only 
through the medium of the associating principle, when, 
by its means, the pleasures originally derived from them 
are blended and identified with those peculiar to vision. 

The same observation is applicable to all the various 
moral and intellectual enjoyments, which, by combining 
themselves with the effects of colours and of forms, may 
embellish the original beauties of those material objects, 
which, while they please the eye, exercise the understand- 
ing, awaken the fancy, or touch the heart. Hence, to a 
botanist, the luxury of a garden, where every thing is 
arranged with a view to his favourite study; hence, to 
the poet, the charms of a romantic retreat; hence, to 
every mind alive to the common sympathies of nature, 
the inspiring influence of scenes consecrated to the 
memory of worth, of valour, or of genius. 

There is, however, nothing which places, in so strong 
a light, the truth of the preceding remarks, as the consent 
of all mankind in applying the word Beautiful to order, 
to fitness, to utility, to symmetry; above all, to that skill 
and comprehensiveness, and unity of design, which, 
combining a multitude of parts into one agreeable whole, 
blend the charms of variety with that of simplicity. All 
of these circumstances are calculated to give pleasure 
to the understanding; but as this pleasure is conveyed 
tlirough the medium of the eye, they are universally con- 



Chap. VI.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 307 

founded with the pleasing qualities which form the direct 
objects of its physical perceptions.^ 

The only other external sense, to the objects of which 
the epithet Beautiful is directly and immediately applied, 
is that of hearing. But this use of the word appears to 
me to be plainly transitive, arising, in part, from the 
general disposition we have to apply to one class of our 
perceptions, the epithets strictly appropriated to the agree- 
able' qualities perceived by another. It is thus we speak 
of the soft verdure of the fields, and of the sweet song of 
the nightingale;! and that we sometimes heap, one upon 
another, these heterogeneous epithets, in the same de- 
scription. 

" Softly-sweet in Lydian measures.^* 

The poverty of language is partly the cause of this; 
but the substitution is, at the same time, pleasingly ex- 
pressive to the fancy; and its incongruity is never more 
likely to escape the severe examination of the judgment, 
than when the thing we wish to describe has any tendency 
to excite rapture, to rouse enthusiasm, or even to inspire 
gaiety. 

" Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, 
" Dulce loquentem." 

" Still drink delicious poison from thy eye." 
Perhaps it may appear to some, that the general ana- 

* I shall have occasion, in another Essay, to make some additional 
remarks on Utility, Fitness, Sec. considered in their relation to the 
idea of Beauty. 

t" It is remarkable that, in some languages, soft and snveet have 
"but one name. Doux, in French, signifies soft as well as sweets 



308 ON T^B J$EAUTIF]Uf^. pEssay I. 

logy of these transitions is sufficient, of itself, indepen- 
dently of all other considerations, to account for the ap- 
plication of the word Beauty to objects of hearing. But 
although this analogy certainly goes a considerable way 
towards a solution of the problem, it by no means re- 
moves the difficulty completely; inasmuch as it suggests 
no reason why the epithet Beautiful should be applied to 
agreeable sounds, rather than to agreeable tastes, or to 
agreeable odours. On a little farther examination, how^ 
ever, we shall find various other circumstances which 
render the transition much more natural and much more 
philosophical in the case before us, than it would be in 
any other class of our perceptions. 

(1.) ^ht picturesque effect (if I may use the expression) 
which custom, in many instances, gives to sounds. Thus, 
the clack of a mill, heard at a distance, conjures up at 
once to the mind's eye the simple and cheerful scene 
which it announces; and thus, though in an incomparably 
greater degree, the songs which delighted our childhood, 
transport us into the well-remembered haunts where we 
were accustomed to hear them. Is it surprising, that, on 
such occasions, the same language should be sometimes 
transferred from the things imagined, to those percep- 
tions by which the imagination was awakened? 

(2.) The expressive powxr of sounds naturally pathetic. 
It is thus that the word Beauty, which is at first transfer, 
red from the face to the mind, comes to be re- transfer- 
red from the mind to the voice; more especially, when its 
tones express such passions as we have been kd, in the 

*^ The Latin dulcis and the Italian dolce have, in many cases, the same 
*' double signification." — Burke, Part iv. sept. 22. 



Chap. VI.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. SOO 

manner already explained, to consider as beautiful. Such 
a transference, which is at all times easy and obvious, 
^eems to be quite unavoidable, when both face and voice, 
at the same moment, conspire in expressing the same af- 
fection or emotion. When the soft tones of female gen- 
tleness, and the benignity of an angel- smile, reach the 
heart at one and the same instant, the emotion which is 
felt, and the object by which it is excited, engage the 
whole of our attention; the diversity of organs by which 
t;}ie effect is conveyed disappears altogether; and lan- 
guage spontaneously combines, under one common term, 
those mixed attractions which are already blended and 
united in the fancy. The Beauty of a musical voice^ and 
the Harmony of beautiful features, are accordingly ex- 
pressions so congenial to our habits of thinking and of 
feeling, that we are unconscious, when we use them, of 
departing from their literal or primitive import. 

Nor is the case essentially different with some other 
sounds which, in consequence of early habit, have been 
very intimately asspciated with the pleasures of vision. 
While we are enjoying, in some favourite scene, the beau- 
ties of nature, how powerfully do the murmur of foun- 
tains, the lowing of cattle, and the melody of birds, en- 
hance the delight! and how irresistibly are w^e led, by this 
joint influence of '' rural sights and rural sounds,^^ to oon- 
found, in our conceptions and in our speech, these two 
distinpt sources of our pleasure! If, on such occasions, 
the impressions produced by objects of Sight predomi- 
nate so far, as to render Beauty and not Harmony or Me- 
lody the generic word; this is no more than might be ex- 
pected, froni the principles formerly stated wdth respect 



310 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Esfiay I 

to the peculiar connection between the Eye and the 
power of Imagination. 

The transference being once made in a few instances, 
the subsequent extension of the term Beaut}^ to musical 
composition, and to all other cases in which the ear is con- 
cerned, will not appear wonderful to those who have been 
accustomed to study the natural proceedings of the mind, 
as exhibited in the diversified applications of language. 

(3.) The significant power of sounds, in consequence 
of conventional speech. In this way, they every moment 
present pictures to the imagination; and we apply to the 
description, as to the thing described, (with hardly any 
consciousness of speaking figuratively), such words as 
lively^ glowing^ luminous^ splendid, picturesque. Hence an 
obvious account (as will be afterwards stated more fully) 
of the application of the epithet Beautiful to Poetry; and 
hence also (if the circumstances already suggested should 
not be thought sufficient for the purpose) an additional 
reason for its application to Music; the natural expres- 
sion of which is so often united with the conventional ex- 
pression o£ her sister slvU 

These different circumstances, when combined with 
the general causes, which, in other instances, produce 
transitive uses of words, account, in my opinion, suffi- 
ciently for the exclusive restriction (among our different 
external senses) of the term Beauty to the objects of 
Sight and of Hearing. To the foregoing considerations, 
however, I must not omit to add, as a cause conspiring 
very powerfully to the same end, the intimate association, 
which, in our apprehensions, is formed between the Eye 
and the Ear, as the great inlets of our acquired know- 



Chap. VI.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL 311 

ledge; as the only media by which different Minds can 
communicate together; and as the organs by which we re- 
ceive from the material world the two classes of pleasures, 
which, while they surpass all the rest in variety and in 
duration, — are the most completely removed from the 
grossness of animal indulgence, and the most nearly 
allied to the enjoyments of the intellect. The unconscious- 
ness we have, in both these senses, of any local impres- 
sion on our bodily frame, may perhaps help to explain 
the peculiar facility with which their perceptions blend 
themselves with other pleasures of a rank still nobler and 
more refined. — It is these two classes, accordingly, of or- 
ganical pleasures, which fall exclusively under the cogni- 
zance of that powder of intellectual Taste, which I propose 
afterwards to examine; and for the analysis of which, 
this disquisition, concerning some of the most important 
©f its appropriate objects, seemed to me to form a neces- 
sary preparation. 

If the view of the subject now given be just, we are at 
©nee relieved from all the mystery into which philosophers 
have been insensibly led, in their theories of Beauty, by 
too servile an acquiescence in the exploded conclusions 
of the ancient schools concerning general ideas. Instead 
of searching for the common idea or essence which the 
word Beauty denotes, when applied to colours, to forms, 
to sounds, to compositions in verse and prose, to mathe- 
matical theorems, and to moral qualities, our attention is 
directed to the natural history of the human mind, and to 
its natural progress in the employment of speech. The 
particular exemplifications which I have offered of my 
general principle, may probably be exceptionable in va- 



512 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. flSilsay I. 

rious instances; but I cannnot help flattering myself with 
the belief, that the principle itself will bear examination. 
^Some objections to it, whi^h I can easily anticipate^ 
may perhaps be obviated in part by the following re- 
marks. 

Although I have endeavoured to shew that our first 
notions of Beauty are derived from colours^ it neither fol- 
lows, that, in those complex ideas of the Beautiful which 
we are afterwards led to form in the progress of our ex- 
perience, this quality must necessarily enter as a compo- 
nent part; nor, where it does so enter, that its effects must 
necessarily predominate over that of all the others. On 
the contrar}^ it may be easily conceived, in what manner 
its effect comes to be gradually supplanted by those 
pleasures of a higher cast, with which it is combined; 
while, at the same time, we continue to apply to the joint 
result, the language which this now subordinate, and 
seemingly unessential ingredient, originally suggested. It 
is by a process somewhat similar, that the mental attrac- 
tions of a beautiful woman supplant those of her person 
in the heart of her lover; and that, when the former have 
the good fortune to survive the latter, they appropriate to 
themselves, by an imperceptible metaphor, that language, 
which, in its literal sense, has ceased to have a meaning. 
In this case, a very pleasing arrangement of nature is ex- 
hibited; the qualities of Mind which insensibly stole, in 
the first instance, those flattering epithets which are des- 
criptive of a fair exterior y now restoring their borrowed 
embellishments, and keeping alive, in the eye of conju- 
gal affection, that Beauty which has long perished to 
every other » 



€hap. VI.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 313 

The progress just remarked, in the instance of Colours, 
admits of an easy and complete illustration, in the gradual 
transference of the painter's admiration, (in proportion as 
his taste is exercised and improved) from the merely or- 
ganical charms of his art, to its sublimer beauties. It is 
not that he is less delighted with beautiful colouring than 
before; but because his Imagination can easily supply its 
absence, when excellencies of a superior order engage his 
attention.* It is for the same reason, that a masterly 
sketch with chalk, or with a pencil, gives, to a practised 
eye, a pleasure to which nothing could be added by the 
hand of a common artist; and that the relics of ancient 
statuary, which are beheld with comparative indift'erence 
by the vulgar of all countries, are surveyed by men of 
cultivated taste with still greater rapture, than the forms 
which live on the glowing canvas of the painter. 

Hence too it happens, that, in the progress of Taste, 
the word Beautiful comes to be more peculiarly appro- 
priated (at least by critics and philosophers) to Beauty in 
its most complicated and impressive form. In this sense 
we plainly understand it, when we speak of analysing 
beauty. To Colour, and to the other simple elements 
which enter into its composition, although we may still, 
with the most unexceptionable propriety, apply this epi- 
thet, we more commonly (as far as I am able to judge) 
apply the epithet pleasing, or some equivalent expres- 
sion. 

I shall only remark farther, on this head, that, in the 
imitative arts, the most beautiful colours, when they are 

* See Note (X). 

2 R 



314 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay L 

out of place, or when they do not harmonize with each 
other, produce an effect which is pecuHarly offensive; 
and that, in articles of dress or of furniture, a passion for 
gaudy decoration is justly regarded as the symptom of a 
taste for the Beautiful, w^hich is destined never to pass 
the first stage of infancy. 



Chap.VIll ON THE BEAUTIFUL 3l5 



CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

CONTINUATION OF THE SUBJECT. OBJECTIONS TO A THEORY OV 

BEAUTY PROPOSED BY FATHER BUFFIER AND SIR JOSHUA REY 
NOLDS. 

jDEFORE I conclude these disquisitions concerning the 
influence of Association on our ideas of the Beautiful, I 
think it proper to take some notice of a theory upon the 
subject, adopted by two very eminent men, Father Buf- 
fier and Sir Joshua Reynolds, according to which we are 
taught, that " the effect of Beauty depends on Habit 
** alone; :the most customary form in each species of 
'* things being invariably the most beautiful." 

'' A beautiful nose" for example, (to borrow Mr. 
Smith's short, but masterly illustration of Buffier's prin- 
ciple) " is one that is neither very long nor very short; 
** neither very straight nor very crooked; but a sort of 
'' middle among all these extremes, and less different 
*' from any one of them, than all of them are from one 
'^ another. It is the form which nature seems to have 
^' aimed at in them all; w^hich, however she deviates from 
''in a great variety of ways, and very rarely hits exactly, 
" but to which all these deviations still bear a very 
" strong resemblance.- — —In each species of creatures, 
'* what is most beautiful bears the strongest characters of 
" the general fabric of the species, and has the strongest 
'' resemblance to tlie greater part of the individuals with 



316 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [ESsay I, 

" which it is classed. Monsters, on the contrary, or what 
" is perfectly deformed, are always most singular and 
*' odd, and have the least resemblance to the generality 
"of that species to which they belong. And thus, the 
" beauty of each species, though, in one sense, the rarest 
'' of all things, because few individuals hit the middle 
** form exactly, yet in another, is the most common, be- 
*' cause all the deviations from it resemble it more than 
*' they resemble one another."* 

The same opinion has been since stated, in much 
stronger and more explicit terms, by a still higher au- 
thority than Buffier, — Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

" EVery species" (he observes) " of the animal as well 
*' as the vegetable creation, may be said to have a fixed 
^' or determinate form, towards which Nature is continu- 
" ally inclining, like various lines terminating in the 
*' centre; and, as these lines all cross the centre, though 
" only one passes through any other point, so it will be 
'* found, that perfect beauty is oftener produced by na- 
** ture than deformity: I do not mean than deformity in 
*' general, but than any one kind of deformity. To in- 
" stance, in a particular part of a feature, the line that 
"forms the ridge of the nose is beautiful when it is 
" straight. This, then, is the central form, which is oftener 
" found than either concave, convex, or any other ir- 
" regular form that shall be proposed. As we are then 
*' more accustomed to beauty than to deformity, we may 
" conclude that to be the reason why we approve and ad- 
" mire it, as we approve and admire customs and fashions 
"of dress for no other reason than that we are used to 

* Theory of Moral Sentiments. 



Chap. VIL] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 317 

" them; so that, though habit and custom cannot be said 
" to be the cause of beauty, it is certainly the cause of 
" our liking it: And I have no doubt, but that, if we 
" were more used to deformity than beauty, deformity 
*^ would then lose the idea now annexed to it, and take 
** that of beauty; as if the whole world should agree, that 
" yes and no should change their meaning; yes would 
** then deny, and no would affirm."* 

As this theory has plainly taken its rise from a mis- 
conception of the manner in which the principle of As- 
sociation operates, the objections to it which I have to 
offer, form a natural sequel to the discussions contained 
in the preceding chapter. 

Among these objections, what strikes myself with the 
greatest force, is, — that, granting the theory to be just, 
so far as it goes, it does not at all touch the main diffi- 
culty it professes to resolve, i^dmitting it to be a fact, 
(as I very readily do, in the sense in which the proposi- 
tion is explained by Reynolds), " That in each species of 
" things, the most customary form is the most beautiful;" 
and supposing, for the sake of argument, that this fact 
warranted the very illogical inference, '' That the effect 
*' of Beauty in that species depends on habit alone;" the 
question still remains to be answered; on what principle 
do we pronounce the Beauty of one species to be greater 
than that of another? To satisfy the conditions of the pro- 
blem, it is obviously necessary, not only to shew how 
one Rose comes to be considered as more beautiful than 
another Rose; one Peacock as more beautiful than 



* Idler, No. 82. See also Reynolds's Works by Malone, 2d Edit, 
p. 237. 



318 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay i. 

another Peacock; one Woman as more beautiful than 
another Woman; but to explain why the Rose is pro- 
nounced to be more beautiful than the Dandelion, the 
Peacock more beautiful than the Srork, and a Beautiful 
Woman to be the masterpiece of Nature's handy work. 
To such questions as these, the theory of Reynolds does 
not furnish even the shadow of a reply. 

This, however, is not the only objection to which it is 
liable. When applied to account for the comparative 
Beauty of different things of the same kind^ it will be found 
altogether unsatisfactory and erroneous. 

In proof of this assertion, it is almost sufficient to men- 
tion the consequence to which it obviously and neces- 
sarily leads, according to the acknowledgment of its in- 
genious authors; — That no individual object is iitted to 
give pleasure to the spectator, previous to a course of 
comparative observations on a number of other objects 
of the same kind. It will afterwards appear, that, hi 
adopting this idea, Buffier and Reynolds have confound- 
ed the principle of Taste, (which is an acquired power, 
implying comparison and reflection) with our natural sus- 
ceptibility of the pleasing effect which Beauty produces. 
In the mean time, it is of more importance to remark, 
that neither of these writers has attempted to assign am- 
reason why a pleasing effect should be connected with 
those qualities which are most commonly to be observed 
in Nature; and therefore, granting that the general fact 
corresponds with their statement, it remains to be con- 
sidered, whether particular objects are perceived to be 
Beautiful, in consequence of their coincidence with those 
arrangements at which Nature appears to aim; or whe- 



Chap. VII. j ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 319 

ther our perception of this coincidence be not a subse- 
quent discovery, founded on a comparison of her pro- 
ductions with some notions of Beauty previously formed. 
To say, with Reynolds, that *' we approve and admire 
** Beauty because we are more accustomed to it than 
** Deformity; as we approve and admire customs and 
*' fashions of dress, for no other reason than that we are 
'* used to them," is manifestly an imperfect solution of 
the difficulty. Even in the article of dress, it is not cus- 
tom alone, but the example of those whom we look up 
to as patterns worthy of imitation; — that is, it is not the 
custom of the many, but the fashion of the few, which 
has the chief influence on our judgments; and conse- 
quently admitting (what I am by no means disposed to 
yield) that one mode of dress is, in itself, as beautiful as 
another, this concession would only afford an additional 
illustration of the power of the associating principle, 
without proving any thing in favour of that conclusion 
which Reynolds wishes to establish. 

Nor is the instance of monstrous animal productions, 
appealed to by Buffier, more in point. The disgust which 
they excite, seems to arise principally from some idea of 
pain or suffering connected with their existence; or from 
the obvious unfitness of the structure of the individual 
for the destined purposes of his species. No similar emo- 
tion is excited by an analogous appearance in the vege- 
table, or in the mineral kingdoms; or even by those 
phenomena which contradict the uniform tenor of our 
past experience, with respect to Nature's most obvious 
and familiar laws. What occurrence so constantly pre- 
sented to our senses as the fall of heavy bodies! yet no- 



320 ON THE BEAUTtFUL. [Essay h 

body ever thought of applying to it the epithet beautiful. 
The rise of a column of smoke is a comparative rarity; 
and yet how often has it amused the eye of the infant, of 
the painter, of the poet, and of the philosopher! — Al- 
though the human form be necessarily fixed by its own 
gravity, to the surface of this globe, how beautiful are 
those pictures of ancient poetry, in which the Gods are 
represented as transporting themselves, at pleasure, be- 
tween earth and heaven! Even the genius of Shakespear, 
in attempting to amplify the graces of a favourite Hero, 
has reserved for the last place in the climax, an attitude 
suggested by this imaginary attribute of the heathen di- 
vinities. 

" A station, like the herald Mercury, 
" New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill." 

A still more obvious example, leading to the same 
conclusion, may be drawn from the agreeable effects of 
lights and colours; the very appearances from which I con- 
ceive our first notions of beauty are derived. Few, I pre- 
sume, will venture to assert, that it is altogether owing to 
custom, that the eye delights to repose itself on the soft 
verdure of a field; or that there is nothing naturally at- 
tractive in the splendid illuminations of summer. From 
the regular vicissitudes of day and of night, custom (if 
nothing else were to operate) should entitle them both, in 
the same degree, to the appellation of Beautiful; but such, 
certainly, has not been the judgment of mankind in any 
age of the world. " Truly the light is sweet, and it is a 
" pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the sun." 

The criticisms which I have hazarded on the specula- 



Chap.Vn.] ON THE BEAUTIFUl^, 321 

tions of these writers do aot afFect the certainty, nor de- 
tract from the importance of the assumption on which 
they proceed. The only point in dispute is, whether in- 
dividual objects please in consequence of their approxi- 
mation to the usual forms and colours of Nature; or whe- 
ther Nature herself is not pronounced to be Beautiful, 
in consequence of the regular profusion in which she ex- 
hibits forms and colours intrinsically pleasing. Upon 
either supposition, great praise is due to those who have 
so happily illustrated the process by which taste is guided 
in the study of ideal beauty; a process which Reynolds 
must be allowed to have traced and described with ad- 
mirable sagacity, even by such as think the most lightly 
of the metaphysical doctrine which he has blended with 
his statement of the fact. 

I must own, indeed, that it was not without some sur- 
prise, I first read the Essay in which the opinion I have 
now been controverting is proposed by this great artiste 
To have found the same paradox in the works of an ab- 
stract philosopher, however distinguished for ingenuity 
and learning, would have been entirely of a piece with 
the other extravagancies which abound in books of sci=^ 
ence; but it is difficult to reconcile the genuine enthusiasm 
with which Reynolds appears to have enjoyed the Beau- 
ties, both of Nature and of Art, with the belief, that " if 
" Beauty were as rare as deformity now is, and deformity 
" as prevalent as actual Beauty, these words would en- 
** tirely change their present meanings, in the same man- 
" ner in which the word yes might become a negative j 
'' and no an affirmative, in consequence of a general con- 
** vention among mankind." The truth has probably 

2 S 



322 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

been, that, in the judgment of Reynolds, (as too often 
happens with all men in the more serious concerns of 
life,) a prepossession in favour of a particular conclusion, 
added verisimilitude to the premises of which it was sup- 
posed to be the consequence; and that a long experience 
of the practical value of the maxim which it was his 
leading object to recommend, blinded him to the absur- 
dity of the theory which he employed to support it.* 

* See Note (Y). ' 



ON THE BEAUTIFUL, 

PART SECOND, 



ON THE BEAUTIFUL, WHEN PRESENTED TO THE 
POWER OF IMAGINATION. 

Jb ROM the account given of Conception in my Analysis 
of the intellectual faculties,* it appears, that we have a 
power of representing to ourselves the absent objects of 
our perceptions, and also the sensations which we remem- 
ber to have felt. I can picture out^ for example, in my 
own mind, — or (to express myself without a metaphor) 
I can think upon any remarkable building, or any remark- 
able scene with which I am familiarly acquainted. I can, 
in like manner, (though by no means with the same dis- 
tinctness and steadiness) think of the Smell of a Rose, of 
the Taste of a Pine- Apple, or of the Sound of a Trum- 
pet. In consequence of the various functions of this power, 
which extend to the provinces of all the different senses, 
the old English writers, (after the example of the school- 
men) frequently distinguish it by the title of Sensus Com-^ 
mttnis, a phrase which they employ precisely in the same ^ 
acceptation in which I use the word Conception, It is in 

* See Philojiophy of the Human Mind- 



324 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

this way that the phrase common sense (which has now so 
many other meanings, both popular and philosophical) is 
employed by Sir John Davis, in his Poem on the Immor- 
tality of the Soul; by Dr. Cudworth in his Treatise of 
Immutable Morality; and by many others both of an ear- 
lier and of a later date. 

To the peculiar ease and vivacity with which we can re- 
cal the perceptions of Sight, it is owing, that our thoughts 
are incomparably more frequently occupied in such vi- 
sual representations^ that in conceiving Smells, Tastes, or 
Sounds; aiixl that, when we think of these last sensations, 
we generally strive to lay hold of them by means of some 
visible object with which they are associated. I can easi- 
ly, for example, think of the form and colour of a Rose, 
with little or no idea of its smell; but when I wish to con- 
ceive the smell as distinctly as possible, I find that the 
most effectual means I can use, is to conceive the flower 
itself to be presented to my eye. The sense of Sight, ac- 
cordingly, maintains the same preeminence over our 
other senses, in furnishing materials to the power of Con- 
ception, that, in its actual exercise, belongs to it, as the 
great channel of our acquired information, and the habi- 
tual medium of our intercourse with things external. If 
there is any difference between the two cases, its preemi- 
nence is still more remarkable in the former than in the 
latter. 

In treating of the Beauty of Perceptible Objects, I have 
already endeavoured to explain how this word comes to 
be applied to qualities specifically and essentially differ- 
ent from each other, in consequence of the indivisible 
simplicity of the emotion which they excite in the mind, 



l»art U.3 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. S2S 

while they are presented to it at one and the same moment. 
The solution is more obviously satisfactory, v^here these 
qualities produce their effect through the same common 
channel of Vision; and this they do in every case, but that 
of tlie beauties which we are supposed to perceive by the 
organ of Hearing. There, it must be owned, the former 
principles do not apply in all their extent; but c compen- 
sate for any deficiency in their application to this class of 
our pleasures, a variety of peculiarities were mentioned 
as (iharacteristical of Sounds, which seem to me to place 
their beauties nearly on a footing with those which are 
more immediately attached to the perceptions of the eye. 
The same observations hold still more completely with 
respect to the corresponding Conceptions of these differ- 
ent qualities. The features of a Beautiful Woman; the 
amiable affections which they express; and the musical 
tones which accord with this expression, however inti- 
mately connected in our thoughts when the object is be- 
fore us, are united still more completely, when the power 
of Conception (the Sensus Communis of the intellect) at- 
tempts to grasp them all in one combination. In this last 
case, too, it is the picture alone which strongly and per- 
manently fixes the attention; and its agreeable concomi- 
tants add to the effect rather by the association of fugitive 
impressions or feelings, than by that of Conceptions, on 
which we are able steadily to dwell. 

The manner in which Conception is subservient to 
Imagination, and the grounds of that conspicuous and 
prominent place which, in all the creations of the latter 
power, is invariably occupied by images borrowed from 
Sight, have been already sufficiently explained. It is from 



326 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay L 

the sense of Sight accordingly (as was formerly remarked) 
that Imagination has derived its name; and it is extremely 
worthy of observation, that to this power, and to the nearly 
allied one of Fancy, the epithet Beautiful has exclusively 
been applied among all our various intellectual faculties. 
We speak of a beautiful imagination, and a beautiful fancy; 
and to the poet, who is supposed to unite both, we ascribe 
a beautiful genius. 

But it is not to visible things^ nor to conceptions derived 
by any of our senses from the material world, that" the 
province of Imagination is confined. We may judge of 
this from that combination of intellectual gratifications 
which we receive through the medium of Poetry; an art 
which addresses itself, in the first instance, to the ear; 
but which aspires to unite with the organic charm of num- 
bers, whatever pleasures imagination is able to supply. 
These pleasures (as I have elsewhere observed) are as 
various as the objects of human thought, and the sources 
of human happiness. *' All the beauties of external na- 
" ture;" (if I may be allowed to quote here a few senten- 
ces from another work;) " all that is amiable or interest- 
" ing, or respectable in human character; all that excites 
" and engages our benevolent affections; all those truths 
"- which make the heart feel itself better and more happy; 
" — all these supply materials, out of which the poet 
" forms and peoples a world of his own, where no incon- 
^* veniencies damp our enjoyments, and where no shades 
*' darken our prospects." 

" The measured composition in which the poet ex- 
" presses himself, is only one of the means which he em- 
*' ploys to please. As the delight which he conveys to the 



Part U.J ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 3^7 

*' imagination is heightened by the other agreeable impres- 
*' sioiis which he can unite in the mind at the same time, 
" he studies to bestow, upon the medium of comniunica- 
•' tion which he employs, all the various beauties of which 
^* it is susceptible. Among these, the harmony of num- 
*' bers is not the least powerful; for its effect is constant, 
" and does not interfere with any of the other pleasures 
'* which language produces. A succession of agreeable 
" perceptions is kept up by the organical effect of 
*^ words upon the ear, while they inform the understan- 
" ding by their perspicuity and precision, cr please the 
^' imagination by the pictures they suggest, or touch the 
*' heart by the associations they awaken. Of all these 
*' charms of language the poet may avail himself; and they 
^' are all so many instruments of his art. To the philoso- 
^' pher, or to the orator, they may occasionally/ be of use; 
'' and to both they must be constantly/ so far an object of 
" study, that nothing may occur in their compositions 
*' which may distract the attention, by offending either the 
'' ear or the taste: but the poet must not rest satisfied 
" with this negative praise. Pleasure is the end of his 
'' art; and the more numerous the sources of it which he 
*' can open, the greater will be the effect produced by the 
'* efforts of his genius."^ 

To my own mind, the above passage appears to throw 
a strong light on the subject which is under our conside- 
ration at present. In the same manner in which the JEi/e 
(while we actually look abroad upon nature) attaches to 
its appropriate objects so great a variety of pleasures, both 

* ElemcDts of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, 



328 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay I. 

physical and moral; so to the poet, Language serves as a 
conimon channel or organ for uniting all the agreeable 
impressions of which the senses, the understanding, and 
the heart, are susceptible: — And as the word Beauty is 
naturally transferred from colours and forms to the other 
pleasing qualities which may be associated with these, 
and to the various moral qualities of which they may be 
expressive; so the same word is insensibly extended 
from those images which form at once the characteristical 
feature, and the most fascinating charm of poetry, to the 
numberless other sources of delight which it opens.* 

The meaning of the word Beautiful becomes thus infi- 
nitely more general than before; and of course, the objects 
of Taste are infinitely multiplied. In treating, accordingly 
of that intellectual power, (which I propose to do in ano- 
ther Essay) I shall confine my attention chiefly to Poetical 
Taste; not only because it embraces a far wider range of 
Beauties than any other, but as it presupposes a certain 
degree of Taste in the more confined and less liberal arts; 
while it implies, in a far greater degree than any of them, 
that combination of the best gifts of the head and heart 
which is expressed in our language by the word SouL 
The process, at the same time, by which Taste is formed, 



* Of the relation which the charm of Beautiful Imagery hears to 
the other pleasures of which language is the vehicle, Cowley seems 
to have formed an idea, equally poetical and just in the following 
simile, v/hich he applies to the copious and figurative eloquence of 
his friend Dr. Sprat. 

** It does, like Thames, the best of rivei's, glide; 
*' And his bright fancy, nil the way, 
" Does, like the sunshine, in it play." 

Ode to the Royal Society. 

2 



Fart II.] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 529 

in all its various applications, will be found to be expli- 
cable on the same common principles. 

Another reason for selecting the creations of Imagina- 
tion in preference to the objects of Sense, as examples to 
illustrate my reasonings concerning Taste, in general, is 
suggested by a remarkable circumstance in their naturCy 
which has been too little attended to by philosophers: 
That these creations possess, in many instances, charms 
which are incomparably more attractive than the realities 
from which they ultimately derive their orighi. Of this 
very curious fact, (so contrary to every conclusion that 
^ould have been formed a priori) the following imperfect 
hints may perhaps afford some explanation. 

1. The materials out of which the combinations of Ima- 
gination are formed, although limited in point of kind^ 
by the variety of real objects, are by no means thus limi- 
ted in point oi degree. We can imagine Rocks and Mcun^ 
tains more sublime, Forests more extensive and awful, 
Rivers more vast and impetuous, than the eye has ever 
beheld. In like manner, we can add, in degree, to the 
qualities, both physical and mental, of our species;-— to 
their strength, to their genius, to their virtue. But per- 
haps it will be> found, that, these exaggerations of the Im= 
agination are confined chiefly to things susceptible of aug- 
mentation, in respect of magnitude or of number; or at 
least, that it is chiefly in instances of this sort (where the 
effect aimed at is rather Sublimity than Beauty) that such 
exaggerations are pleasing. 

2. Imagination, by her powers of selection and of com- 
bination, can render her productions more perfect than 
those which are exhibited in the natural world. Defects 

2T 



330 ON THE BEAUTIFUL. [Essay L 

may be supplied; redundancies and blemishes removed; 
and the excellencies of different individuals may be uni- 
ted into one whole. In such cases, it cannot, with strict 
propriety, be said, that Imagination creates the Beauties 
she exhibits. She derives them not from her own internal 
resources; but, by a careful study of Nature, she em- 
ploys one part of her works to correct another, and col- 
lects into a single ideal object, the charms that are scat- 
tered among a multitude of realities. Nor does this re- 
mark apply merely to the beauty of material forms; it 
may be extended (under proper limitations) to the repre- 
sentations given, in works of imagination, of human 
life, find of the characters and manners of mankind. By 
skilful selections and combinations, characters more ex- , 
alted and more pleasing may be drawn, than have ever 
fallen under our observation; and a series of event' may 
be exhibited in complete consonance with our moral feel- 
ings. Rewards and punishments may be distributed by 
the poet, with an exact regard to the merits of individuals; 
and those irregularities in the distribution of happiness 
and misery which furnish the subject of so many com» 
plaints in real life, may be corrected in the world created 
by his genius. Here, too, the poet borrows from Nature, 
the model after which he copies; not only as he accom- 
modates his imaginary arrangements to his own unper- 
verted sense of justice, but as he accommodates them to 
the general laws by which the world is governed; for 
whatever exceptions may occur in particular instances, 
there can be no more doubt of the fact, that virtue is the 
direct road to happiness, and vice to misery, than that, 
in the material universe, blemishes and defects are lost 
among prevailing beauty and order. 



Parill.'j ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 531 

3. The poet can arrange the succession of the various 
emotions which he wishes to excite, in such a manner as 
to make the transition agreeable from one to another; and 
sometimes to delight his reader by skilful contrasts. In 
this respect also, by a careful study of Nature, he may 
learn to communicate to his productions agreeable effectSj 
which natural objects and real events do not always pos- 
sess. 

A beauty of this kind in Shakespeare has been finely 
remarked by Sir Joshua Reynolds. After the awful scene 
in which Macbeth relates to his wife the particulars in his 
interview with the weird sisters; and where the design is 
conceived of accomplishing their predictions that very 
night, by the murder of the king; how grateful is the 
sweet and tranquil picture presented to the fancy, in the 
dialogue between the King and Banquo, before the cas^ 
tie- gate: 

«* This castle hath a pleasant site; the air 
" Nimbly and swiftly recommends itself 
" Unto our general sense.'* 



-" This guest of summer, 



" The temple-haunting martlet, does approve 

" By his lov'd mansionry, that heaven's breath 

" Smells wooingly here. No jutting frieze, 

" Buttrice, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird 

" Hath made his pendant bed, and procreant cradle. 

" Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd 

« The air is dehcate." 

Reynolds compares the effect of this, to what is called 
repose in painting. — This skilful management of our plea- 
sant and painful emotions, so as to produce si result that 



332 ON THE BEAUTIFUL, 

is delightful on the whole, is practicable in all the arts 
which are addressed to the Imagination. In real life, we 
know too well, how much the succession of our pleasures 
and pains depends on causes beyond our control. 

Many exemplifications of the same thing are to be found 
in the ancient Poets. The finest of them all, perhaps, is 
Homer's description of the shield of Achilles, where the 
battles and sieges are, with such transcendent art, con- 
trasted with the harvest, the vintage, and the pastoral 
scenes of peace. 

4. Although, when we analyse the combinations of 
imagination into their component elements, the pleasure 
produced by each of these may be weaker than that arising 
from the correspondent perception; yet it is possible to 
communicate to the mind, in a short space of time, so 
immense a number of these fainter impressions, as to oc- 
casion a much greater degree of pleasure, in the general 
result. The succession of events in the natural world, 
although sufficiently varied to prevent satiety and languor, 
is seldom so rapid as to keep pace with the restlessness 
of our wishes. But the imagination can glance, in the 
same moment, '' from heaven to earth, from earth to hea- 
*' ven;" and can, at will, shift the scene, from the gloom 
and desolation of winter, to the promises of spring, or 
the glories of summer and autumn. In accounting for 
the powerful effect which the pleasures of imagination 
occasionally produce, I am disposed to lay peculiar stress 
on this last circumstance; — the rapidity with which they 
may be made to succeed each other, and, of consequence, 
the number of them that may be concentrated into an 
instant of time. A considerable part of what Mr. Gilpin 



Part IL] ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 333 

remarks, in the following passage, concerning the effects 
of the plano-convex mirror, in surveying landscapes, may 
be applied to the subject now before us; and I am much 
pleased to find, that this analogy has not escaped the 
notice of that ingenious writer. 

" In wooded scenes, the plano-convex mirror, which 
" was Mr. Gray's companion in all his tours, has a pleas- 
" ing effect. Distances^ indeed, reduced to so small asur- 
** face, are lost: it is chiefly calculated for objects at hand, 
" which It shews to more advantage. When we examine 
*' nature at large, we study composition and effect: we 
" examine also the forms of particular objects. But, from 
" the size of the objects of nature, the eye cannot perform 
" both these operations at once. If it be engaged in 
" general effects, it postpones particular objects; and, if 
** it be fixed on particular objects, whose forms and tints 
" it gathers up with a passing glance from one to another, 
''it is not at leisure to observe general effects. 

" But, in the minute exhibitions of the convex mirror, 
" composition, forms, and colours, are brought closer 
" together, and the eye examines the general effect, the 
" forms of the objects, and the beauty of the tints, in one 
" complex view. As the colours, too, are the very colours 
" of nature, and equally well harmonized, they are the 
" more brilliant, as they are the more condensed. In a 
" chaise, particularly, the exhibitions of the convex mirror 
" are amusing. We are rapidly carried from one object to 
*' another. A succession of high-coloured objects is con- 
*' tinually gliding before the eye. They are like the visions 
" of the imagination J or the brilliant landscapes of a dream, 
" Forms and colours., in brightest array, fleet before us; 



334 OiSr TilE BEAUTIFUL. [EsSay I 

'* and, if the transient glance of a good composition hap- 
" pen to unite with them, we should give any price to 
" fix and appropriate the scene."* 

The four different considerations now suggested will, 
I hope, throw some light on the point which they are 
meant to illustrate. At the same time, I am sensible that 
much remains to be explained, in order to account com- 
pletely for the different effects produced by the combina- 
tions of imagination, and by the realities from which their 
materials are collected. On this very curious and fertile 
question, however, I must here content myself with re- 
marking, how strikingly discriminated, in various re- 
spects, the laws are, which regulate the pleasures we de- 
rive from these two sources; insomuch, that a separate 
consideration of both is necessary to all who wish to think 
with justness and accuracy of either. Nor is the distinc- 
tion between them of use in theory only: it is of impor- 
tant practical utility; and deserves more attention than it 
has yet attracted, from all who cultivate the fine arts. It 
was for this reason cliieHy that I have kept it in view, as 
steadily as possible, through the whole of the foregoing 
speculations concerning the Beautiful. An illustration 
of some of the mistakes which have originated in an in- 
discriminate application to the various objects of taste, 
of conclusions deduced from a partial study of them, 
could not fail to place in a light still stronger the necessity 
of a more accurate analysis than has hitherto been at-^ 
tempted, of the general principles connected with this 
branch of the philosophy of the human mind. But I have 

* Gilpin's Tours, S^c. Uc. Vol. II. p. 225. 



VsLVtltj ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 335 

already far transgressed the limits which I had allotted to 
the subject of this Essay; and must now dismiss it, for 
the present, with a few cursory remarks. 

It has been often observed by those who have treated 
of the principles of criticism, from the time of Aristotle 
downwards, that many things which are offensive in the 
reality may nevertheless furnish pleasing materials for 
works of imagination, and even pleasing subjects for the 
imitative arts: And, although I am far from considering 
the argument as completely exhausted by any of the 
writers whom I have happened to consult, yet, ^slhtjact 
is now universally admitted, I shall rather direct the at- 
tention of my readers, on this occasion, to a proposition 
not altogether so common, though equally indisputable; 
— That some things which we see without offence, and 
even with pleasure, in real life, would excite disgust, if 
introduced into a work of imagination. 

How many unexpected combinations of circumstances 
do we meet with, not only in history, but in the daily in- 
tercourse of society, which we should not hesitate to pro- 
nounce unnatural and improbable, if they occurred in a 
novel! In real life, this very singularity amuses by the sur-- 
prise it occasions; but, in a professed work of imagina- 
tion, the surprise offends us, by suggesting doubts about 
the fidelity of the representation.* In a work of imagina- 

*"Le vrai peut quelquefois n'etre pas vraisemblable." — Boileau. 

Aristotle had plainly a similar idea in his mind, when he remarked, 
that " nothing hinders, but that some true events may possess that 
^^ probability y the invention of which entitles an author to the name 

See a very judicious note of Mr. Twining's on this passage,; 



336 ON THE BEAUTIFUL, [Essay i; 

tion, besides, our pleasure arises, in part, from our admi- 
ration of the skill of the artist; and this is never so 
strongly displayed, as when extraordinary events are 
brought about by a series of ordinary and natural occur- 
rences. An incident, on the other hand, out of the com- 
mon course of human affairs, strikes us as a blemish, by 
seeming to betray a poverty of invention and genius in 
the author. 

It is chiefly owing to this, that all casual events are un- 
pleasing in fictitious writing, when they are employed as 
contrivances to bring about the catastrophe. It is perfect- 
ly agreeable to the course of nature, that a man, seem- 
ingly in good health, should drop down in a fit of apo- 
plexy; but a play would be quite ludicrous which admit- 
ted such an incident. We may form some judgment of 
this, from the disagreeable impression produced in 
Shakespeare's King John^ by the fate of Arthur after his 
escape from Hubert. For the same reason, I am inclined 
to doubt, whether the story of Fiesco, Count of Lavagna, 
which, in some of its circumstances, is so admirably 
adapted for the stage, is fitted, on the whole, to form the 
ground- work of a tragedy: And yet his accidental death 
has a wonderfully fine effect in Dr Robertson's narra- 
tive.* 

Something analogous to this may be remarked in iand- 

and a curious quotation to the same purpose which he has produced 
from Diderot. — Translation of Aristotle's Treatise on Poetry, pp. 
«8, 408. 

* In the very interesting play to which Schiller has prefixed the 
title of Fiesco, he has, with great judgment, departed, in this essen- 
tial particular, from the truth of history. — Machiavel is said to have 
projected a dramatic performance on the same subject. 

2 



Part II j ON THIS BEAUTIFUL. 337 

scape-painting; in which (as Mr. Wheatley observes) 
there are many things that would offend us, which are 
pleasing in reality. For an illustration of this, he has 
selected, very happily, the beautiful pleasure-grounds at 
Islam in Derbyshire; a scene, " where" (to quote his own 
description) '' nature seems to have delighted to bring 
" distances together; where two rivers, which were in- 
" gulphed many miles asunder, issue from their subter- 
" raneous passages, the one often muddy when the other 
*^ is clear, within a few paces of each other; but they ap- 
'* pear only to lose themselves again, for they immediate- 
" ly unite their streams, just in time to fall into another 
" current, which also runs through the garden." — '' Such 
*' whimsical wonders," (he very justly adds) '' lose their 
" effect, when represented in a picture, or mimicked in 
" ground artificially laid. As accidents ihey may surprise; 
" but they are not objects of choice." 

To these observations we may add, that even where 
every thing appears perfectly natural and probable in a 
work of imagination, it may yet offend the taste, by ex- 
hibiting what would be highly pleasing in a historical 
composition. There are few books more interesting than 
Hume's History of England; but, if we conceived the 
events to be fictitious, it would make a very indifferent 
romance. The truth seems to be, that in a piece, where the 
story is plainly a fabrication, and Vv^here even the names 
of the characters are fictitious, it is impossible to keep up 
the reader's interest, without a plot, v/hich evidently ad- 
vances as the work proceeds, and to which all the various 
incidents are conceived to be somehow or other subser- 
vient. Hence the stress laid by so many critics, ancient 

2U 



338 ON THE BEAUTIFUL; [Essay L 

and modern, on the importance of unity of fable, in epic, 
and still more in tragic poetry. Nor do the historical plays 
of Shakespeare furnish a real exception to the general re- 
mark. Some of the most popular of these, it must indeed 
be confessed, consist entirely of a series of incidents, 
which have little or no connection but what they derive 
from their supposed relation to the fortunes of the same 
man. But such pieces, it will be found, do not interest 
and affect us, on the same principles with works of ima- 
gination. We conceive them to exhibit yac^^ v/hich really 
happened, considering them partly in the light of drama- 
tic performances, and partly of histories; and, in conse- 
quence of this, make allovv^ance for many details, which, 
in a fable professedly the offspring of the poet's invention, 
we should have pronounced to be absurd. 

It would be worth while to examine what kind of in- 
cidents please in fictitious composition; and to ascertain 
the principles and rules of this kind of writing. What 
has been already observed is sufficient to shew, that the 
pleasure we derive from it is not owing merely to its en- 
larging the narrow limits of real history, by new and un- 
heard of events; but to something peculiar in the nature 
of the events, and in the manner of connecting them 
together. 

After all, however, less practical danger is to be appre- 
hended from transferring to the imitative arts, those habits 
of feeling and judging which have been formed by actual 
experience and observation, than from a transference to 
human life and external nature, of ideas borrow^ed from 
the imitative arts. If, in the former case, an artist may be 
disappointed in producing the agreeable effect at which 



Partaj ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 339 

he aims; in the latter, he may expect the more serious 
inconvenience of contracting a fantastic singuhirity of 
opinions and manners, or of impairing his relish for the 
primary beauties which nature exhibits. 

A long and exclusive familiarity with fictitious narra- 
tives (it has been often observed) has a tendency to 
weaken the interest we take in the ordinary business of 
the world; and the slightest attempt to fashion the man- 
ners after such models as they supply, never fails to ap- 
pear ludicrous in the extreme. The case is nearly similar 
with the painter who applies, to the beauties of a rich and 
varied prospect, the rules of his own limited art; or who, in 
the midst of such a scene, loses its general effect, in the 
contemplation of some accidental combination of circum- 
stances suited to his canvas. But on this point I have 
already enlarged at sufficient length. 

* * * * 

I intended to have prosecuted still farther, the subject of 
this Essay, and to have added to it some supplemental 
observations on the import of the word Beauty, when 
applied to Virtue; to Philosophical Theories; to Geome- 
trical Propositions, and to some other classes of Scien- 
tific Discoveries; in all of which instances, the principles 
already stated will be found to afford an easy explanation 
of various apparent anomalies in the use of the expres- 
sion. Enough, however, has been already said, for the 
purposes I have in view in the sequel of this volume; and 
I shall, therefore, reserve the topics now mentioned for 
future discussion. 



:essay second. 



ON THE SUBIilME, 



PREFACE. 

IVlY thoughts were first turned particularly to this sub- 
ject, by the opposite judgments which have been lately 
pronounced on the merits of Mr. Burke's theory of the 
Sublime, by two writers of great originality, acuteness, 
and taste, — Mr. Price and Mr. Knight. The former of 
these gentlemen having done me the honour, in spring 
1808, to allow me the perusal of a very valuable supple- 
ment to what he has alread}^ published in defence of the 
doctrines of his late illustrious friend, I was induced to com- 
mit to writing, a few hasty and unconnected notes, on some 
incidental points to which his manuscript had attracted 
my attention. It was upon this occasion, that the leading- 
idea occurred to me which runs through the whole of the 
following Essay; and which I had the boldness to commu- 
nicate to Mr, Price, in the very crude form in which it at 
first presented itself. At that period, I had little or no in- 
tention to prosecute it any farther; but having afterwards 
recollected its ^lose analogy to a principle which forms 
the basis of the foregoing speculations concerning the 
Beautiful, I resolved to resume the consideration of it 
more deliberately, as soon as my necessary engagements 
should permit; in the hope that the two discussions might 



Esawjrll/J ON THE SUBLIME. 341 

reflect additional lights on each other. In this I flatter 
myself that I have not been altogether disappointed; and 
accordingly, I have placed them together, in arranging 
the materials of this volume; although without any direct 
references in either to the parallel train of thought pur- 
sued in the other. An attentive reader will be able easily 
to collect for himself the general results to which they 
lead. 

The Essay on the Beautiful has been lying by me, 
much in the same state in which it now appears, for seve- 
ral years. The greater part of that on the Sublime, (with 
the exception of a few pages, which I have copied very 
nearly from the notes transmitted to Mr. Price) was 
written last summer, during a short residence in a dis- 
tant part of the country, where I had no opportunity 
whatever of consulting books. I mention this merely to 
account for the selection of my illustrations^ many of 
w^hich, I am sensible, may appear too hackneyed to be in- 
troduced into a disquisition, which it would have been 
desirable to enliven and adorn by examples possessing 
something more of the zest of novelty and variety. At 
first, I intended to have corrected this fault, as far as I 
was able, in transcribing my papers for the press; but, on 
more mature reflection, it struck me forcibly, that the 
quotations which had offered themselves spontaneously 
to my memory, while engaged in the consideration of 
general principles, were likely from the very circumstance 
of their triteness, to possess some important advantages 
over any that I could substitute in their place. They 
shew, at least, by their familiarity to every ear, that I have 
not gone far out of my way, in quest of instances to sup- 



342 ON THE SUBLIME. [EssayifL 

port a preconceived hypothesis; and afford a presumption, 
that the conchisions to which I have been led, are the natu- 
ral result of impressions and associations not confined to a 
small number of individuals. Whether indolence may 
not have contributed somewhat to fortify me in these opi- 
nionsj it is now too late for me to consider. 



ON THE SUBLIME. 



CHAPTER FIRST. 

OF SUBLIMITY, IN THE LITERAL SENSE OF THE WORD. 

Among the writers who have hitherto attempted to 
ascertain the nature of the Sublime, it has been very 
generally, if not universally taken for granted, that there 
must exist some common quality in all the various ob- 
jects characterized by this common epithet. In their re- 
searches, however, concerning the essential constituent 
of Sublimity, the conclusions to which they have been 
led are so widely different from each other, that one 
would scarcely suppose, on a superficial view, they could 
possibly relate to the same class of phenomena; — a cir- 
cumstance the more remarkable, that, in the statement of 
these phenomena, philosophical critics are, with a few 
trifling exceptions, unanimously agreed. 

Mr. Burke seems disposed to think, that the essence 
of the sublime is the terrible^ operating either openly or 
more latently,^ Helvetius has adopted the same general 

* In one passage, he asserts this, in very unqualified terms: " Ter- 
" ror is, in all cases whatsoever, either more openly or latently, the 
"rulmg principle of the sublime." — (Part ii. Sect. 2.) 

In other instances he expresses himself more guardedly^ speaking 



<..\- 



344 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay H. 

idea, but has expressed it (in my opinion) rather more 
precisely; asserting, that " the sublime of imagery always 
^* supposes an emotion oj' terror begun; and that it cannot 
'* be produced by any other cause,"! Dr. Blair, with great 
diffidence, has hazarded a conjecture, that the solution of 
the problem is to be found in the idea of might?/ power 
or force; and Mn Knight has lately contended for a 
theory which ascribes the effect in question to the influ- 
ence of mental energy^ exciting a sympathetic energy in 
the mind of the spectator or of the reader. According to 
Lord Karnes, **a beautifulobject, j&/a<?6>(iA2^A, appearing 
*' more agreeable than formerly, produces in the spectator 
^* a new emotion^ termed the emotion of sublimity; and 
'^ every other emotion, resembling this emotion of eleva- 
*' tion, is called by the same name.^f Longinus, who 
confined his attention to the Sublime in writing, contented 
himself with remarking one of its characteristical effects; 
''^ that it fills the reader with a glorying, and sense of in- 
^■^ ward greatness:"— A remark v/hich has been sanction- 

of Terror as only one of the sources, though one of the chief sources 
of Sublimity, 

t De rHomme, de ses facultes, et de son education. 

I " Thus generosity is said to be an elevated emotion, as well as 
^' great courage; and that firmness of soul which is superior to 
** misfortunes, obtains the peculiar name of magnanimity. On the 
" other hand, every emotion that contracts the mind, and fixeth it 
<«upon things trivial or of no importanccj is termed iow by its re- 
" semblance to a little or low object of sight: thus an appetite for 
"trifling amusements is called a low taste. Sentiments and even 
" expressions, are characterized in the same manner: an expression 
*•' or sentiment that raises the mind is denominated grtat or elevatrd^ 
« and hence the Sublime in poetry." 

Elements of Criticism* 



Chap. 1.3 ON THE SUBLIME. 345 

ed by the concurrent approbation of all succeeding critics, 
however widely they have differed in their conclusions 
concerning the specific cause with which the effect is con- 
nected. 

In consequence of these attempts to resolve all the dif- 
ferent kinds of Sublimity into one single principle a 
great deal of false refinement has been displayed in bend- 
ing facts to preconceived systems. The speculations of 
Mr. Burke himself are far from being invulnerable in this 
point of view; although he may justly claim the merit of 
having taken a more comprehensive survey of his sub- 
ject, and of having combined, in his induction, a far 
more valuable collection of particular illustrations, than 
any of his predecessors. 

It appears to me, that none of these theorists have paid 
sufficient attention to the word sublime in its literal and 
primitive sense; or to the various natural associations 
founded on the physical and moral concomitants of great 
Altitude.* It is surely a problem of some curiosity to 
ascertain, what led the Greeks to employ the word 'TTOS 
in this metaphorical acceptation; and what has determined 
the moderns to adopt so universally the same figure, and 
to give to its meaning a still greater degree of latitude. 
No other term can be found in our language which con- 
veys precisely the same notion; and to this notion it is 
now so exclusively appropriated, that its literal import is 
seldom thought of. To use the word sublimity, in prose 

* As for the etymology of Sublime (sublimis) I leave it willingly 
to the conjectures of lexicographers. The common one which we 
meet with in our Latin dictionaries (q. supra limum) is altogether 
unworthy of notice. 

2X 



546 ON THE SUBLIME, [Essay II. 

composition, as synonymous with altitude or height^ 
would be affectation and pedantry. 

Among the critics hitherto mentioned, Lord Karnes 
alone has observed, that, *' generally speaking, the figu- 
" rative sense of a word is derived from its proper 
" sense;" and that " this holds remarkably with respect 
** to sublimity." But of this observation, so just and im- 
portant in itself, he has made little or no use in the sequel; 
nor has he once touched on the most interesting and 
difficult point in the problem, — the grounds of that natural 
transition which the mind is disposed to make from 
Sublimity, literally so called, to the numerous metaphori- 
cal uses of the term. To assert that, in all these cases, 
an emotion somewhat similar is experienced ^"^ is at best 
but a vague and unsatisfactory solution of the difficulty. 

Before I proceed farther, it is proper for me to observe, 
that my aim is not to substitute a new theory of my own, 
instead of those offered by my predecessors; but only to 

* " An increasing series of rwivah^vs^ firoducing an emotion similar 
*' to that of mounting ufiivard^ is commonly termed an ascending se- 
" ries: a series of numbers gradually decreasing, producing an emo" 
" tion similar to that of going downward^ is commonly termed a de- 
** scending series. — The veneration we have for our ancestors, and 
" for the ancients in general, being si?nilar to the emotion produced 
« by an elevated object of sights justifies the figurative expression, of 
" the ancients being raised above us, or possessing a superior place. 

" The notes of the gamut, proceeding regularly from the 

" blunter or grosser sounds, to the more acute and piercing, pro- 
♦< duce in the hearer a feeling somewhat similar to ivhat is produced by 
" mounting upward; and this gives occasion to the figurative expres- 
*' sions, a high nqtcy and a loiv note/' — Elements of Criticism. 

I need scarcely remark, that, in these various instances, the real 
difficulty, so far from being explained, is not even pointed out as an 
object of curiosity. 



Chap. I.J ON THE SUBLIME. 347 

account, from the general laws of human thought, for the 
various metaphorical or transitive meanings of the word 
Sublimity. If I shall be successful in this attempt, I may, 
perhaps, be able to throw some light on the circum- 
stances, by which such a variety of hypotheses, so widely 
different from each other, have been suggested by the 
same phenomena. My own opinion is, that there is a 
large mixture of truth in most of these theories; but that 
all of them have taken their rise from partial views of the 
subject, or rather from a mistaken view of the nature of 
the problem to be resolved. 

In reflecting on the circumstances by which Sublimity 
in its primitive sense is specifically distinguished, the 
first thing that strikes us is, that it carries the thoughts in 
a direction opposite to that in which the great and uni- 
versal law of terrestrial gravitation operates. Hence it is, 
that while motion doiimwards convej^s the idea only of 
a passive obedience to the laws of nature, motion up^ 
wards always produces, more or less, a feeling of pleasing 
surprise, from the comparative rarity of the phenomenon, 
In the ascent of flame; of sparks of fire; of rockets; nay, 
even of a column of smoke, there is something amusing 
and fascinating to the eye; — trifling, however, in the ef- 
fect produced on the imagination, when compared with 
the flight of an eagle soaring towards the sun. The fact 
is, that the ascent of an animated being into the upper 
regions, while it attracts the attention, in common with 
the ascent of smoke or of flame, exhibits active powers 
which are completely denied to ourselves, not only in de- 
gree, but in kind: and accordingly, when we wish to con- 
vey the idea of a supernatural agent, the most obvious 



348 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay II. 

inicge which presents itself, is that of the human form 
invested with wings; pennis non homini datis. The same 
image has been employed for this purpose, in all ages 
and in all countries; and must therefore have been 
suggested by the common nature and common circum- 
'stances of the human race.* 

An image perfectly analogous to this has universally 
occurred as an expressive type of those mental endow- 
ments which are confined to a few favoured individuals. 
It is thus we speak of the Jlights of imagination and of 
fancy; both of which powers are commonly supposed to 
be the immediate gift of heaven; and not, like our scien- 
tific habits and acquirements, the result of education or 
of study. 

Among the sciences, Astronomy is that to which the 
epithet Sublime is applied with the most appropriate pre- 
cision; and this evidently from the Elevation of the ob- 
jects with which it is conversant: '^ A'erias tentasse domos^ 
*''■ anlmoque rotundum Percurrisse polum.^''—V^t do not, 
however, speak of the flights of the astronomer, as we 
do of those of the poet; because the proceedings of ex- 
perience and of reason are slow in comparison of those 
of imagination. Ovid has happily marked this circum- 
stance by the word scandere, in the following verses, 
which I quote chiefly on account of the additional proof 
they afford of the intimate association between the con- 
ception of mere height or superiority^ and of that meta- 
phorical sublimity which fallb under the cognizance of 
critical and of ethical inquirers. 

* See Note (Z). 



Chap. l/i ON THE SUBLIME. 349 

« Felices animos, quibus haec cognoscere primis 

" Inque domos superas scandere cura fuitl 
"CredibUe est illos pariter vitiisque locisque 

" Aldus humanis exseruisse caput. 
" Non Venus et Vinum sublimia pectora fregit, 

<' Officiumve fori, militiaeve labor, 
« Nee levis ambitio, perfusaque gloria fuco, 

" Magnarumve fames solliciiavit opum. 
<* Admovere oculis distantia sidera nostris, 

" iEtheraque ingenio supposuere suo. 
" Sic petitur coelum."— 

Eminent moral qualities too, particularly those of the 
more rare and heroical kind, are frequently characterized 
by the same language. 



-« Pauci quos aequus amavit 



" Jupiter, aut ardens evexit ad sethera virtus, 
" Dis geniti, potuere." — 

"Virtus, recludens immeritis mori 
" Ccelum, negata tentat iter via: 
" Coetusque vulgares et udam 

" Spernit humum fugiente penna." 

The more sober imagination of philosophical moralists 
has, in general, disposed them to content themselves with 
likening the discipline of a virtuous life to a toilsome as- 
cent up a rugged steep, growing less and less difficult at 
every step that we gain. In this, as in the allusions just 
quoted from the poets, the radical idea is, a continued 
course of active exertion, in opposition to the downward 
tendency of terrestrial gravitation.* 

To the more eminent and distinguishing attainments^ 

*SeeNote(Aa). 



350 * ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay IJ, 

accordingly, of the virtuous man, some modern writers 
have given the title of the moral subiime; a metaphorical 

phrase, to which another natural association, afterwards 
to be mentioned, lends much additional propriety and 
force 

Three other very conspicuous peculiarities distinguish 
Sublimity from Depth, and also from horizontal Distance* 
1. The vertical line in which Vegetables shoot: 2, The 
erect form of Man^ surmounted with the seat of intelli- 
gence, and with the elevated aspect of the human face di- 
vine: 3. The upward growth of the Human Body, during 
that period when the intellectual and moral progress of 
the mind is advancing with the greatest rapidity:— All of 
them presenting the most impressive images of an as« 
piring ambition, or of a tendency to rue higher; in op- 
position to that law of gravity which j of all physical facts^ 
is the most familiar to our senses» 

With these three circumstanceSj there is a fourth which 
conspires^ in no inconsiderable degrecj in imparting an 
allegorical or typical character to literal sublimity. I allude 
to the Rising, Culminating, and Setting of the heavenly 
bodies;— more particularly, to the Rising, Culminating, 
and Setting of the Sun; accompanied with a corresponding 
increase and decrease in the heat and splendour of his^ 
rays. It is impossible to enumerate all the various analo- 
gies which these familiar appearances suggest to the fan- 
cy. I shall only mention their obvious analogy to the 
Morning, Nqon, and Evening of life; and to the short in- 
terval of Meridian Glory, which, after a gradual advance 
to the summit, has so often presaged the approaching de- 
cline of human greatness. 



Chap. 1.1 ON THE SUBLIME. 351 

It is not, however, to be imagined, because Height is a 
source of Sublime emotion, that Depth must necessarily 
affect the mind with feelings of an opposite description* 
Abstracting altogether from the state of the fact^ which 
is decisive against such a supposition, we should not be 
entitled to draw this conclusion from any of the theoreti- 
cal considerations hitherto stated. For although, in most 
cases, motion downwards conveys the idea of a passive 
obedience to physical laws, it frequently implies active 
powers exactly the same with those which are displayed in 
the ascent of animated beings. Instances of this occur in the 
equable and regulated descent of a bird, when about to 
alight on the ground; and, (what is still more to our pur- 
pose) in the stooping flight of a hawk or of an eagle^ dart- 
ing upon its quarry;— a motion which is sometimes sud- 
denly arrested in its accelerating careerj and instantly suc- 
ceeded by a retreat into the clouds. 

It is to be remembered, besides, that, in the descent of 
bodies from a great height, their previous ascent is im- 
plied; and accordingly, the active power by which their 
elevation was effected, is necessarily recalled to the imagi- 
nation, by the momentum acquired during the period of 
their fall.* 

The feelings produced by looking downwards from the 
battlement of a high tower, or from the ^dg^ of a precipi- 
tous rock, have also had a frequent place in sublime des- 
criptions; and Mr. Burke seems to have thought, that thev 
are still more powerful in their effect, than those excited 

* The same idea (as will afterwards appear more fully) is associa- 
ted with the metaphorical use of the same language, 

" Si cadenduTT! est niihi> caelo cecidisse vel'm,'- 



352 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay If. 

by the idea of great altitude. In this opinion I cannot 
agree with him, if it be understood to imply any thing 
more than that a particular eminence may appear con- 
temptible when viewed from below, while it produces an 
emotion allied to the sublime, on a spectator who looks 
down from its summit. Of the possibility of this every 
person must be satisfied from his own experience; but it 
is altogether foreign to the question, whether Height or 
Depth in general^ is capable of producing the strongest 
impression of Sublimity; a question, the decision of which 
appears to me to be not more difficult or dubious than 
that of the former; and which I shall endeavour afterwards 
to place beyond the reach of controversy, in a subsequent 
part of this essay. 

The feelings, at the same time, of which we are con- 
scious in looking down from an eminence, are extremely 
curious; and are, in some cases, modified by certain in- 
tellectual processes, which it is necessary to attend to, in 
order to understand completely the principles upon which 
Depth has occasionally such a share, in adding to the 
power of sublime emotions. 

The first and the most important of these processes is, 
the strong tendency of the imagination to represent to us, 
by an ideal change of place, the feelings of those who are 
below; or to recal to us our own feelings, previous to our 
ascent. This tendency of the imagination we are the more 
disposed to indulge, as it is from heloiv that altitudes are 
most frequently viewed; and as we are conscious, when 
we look downwards, of the unusual circumstances in 
which we are placed. We compare the apparent Depth 
with the apparent Height, and are astonished to find how 

2 



feJhap. I.J ON THE SUBLLAIE. 353 

much we had underrated the latter. It is owing to this, 
that mountains, when seen from the contiguous plain, 
produce^their sublimest effect on persons accustomed to 
visit their summits; and that a lofty building, like the 
dome of St. Paul's, acquires ever after tenfold grandeur 
in our estimation, when we have once measured its height, 
step by step, and have looked down from it upon the 
humble abodes of its ordinary spectators. 

On the other hand, in looking upwards to a precipice, 
if one of our fellow-creatures, or even one of the lower 
animals, should be placed on the brink, the principle of 
sympathy transports us instantly, in imagination, to the 
critical spot; exciting in us some degree of the same feel- 
ings which we should there have experienced. " On the 
*' cliffs above," (says Gray, in the journal of one of his 
tours) " hung a few goats; one of them danced and scratch- 
'* ed an ear with its hind foot, in a place where I would 
" not have stood stock-stilly for all beneath the moon." It 
is by such unexpected incidents as this, that the attention 
is forcibly roused to the secret workings of thought; but 
something of the same kind takes place on almost every 
occasion, when Altitude produces the emotion of Subli- 
mity. In general, whoever examines the play of his ima- 
gination, while his eye is employed either in looking up 
to a lofty eminence, or in looking down from it, will find 
it continually shifting the direction of its movements; — 
" glancing" (as the poet expresses it) " from heaven to 
** earth, from earth to heaven." 

Of this mental process we are more peculiarly consci- 
ous in reading the descriptions of poetr}'^: — 



2 Y 



354 ON THE SUBLIME. [l^ssay IL 

'*' On a rock, whose haughty brow 

" Fro%v7is o'er old Conway's foaming flood, 

" Robed in the sable garb of woe, 

" With haggard eye, the poet stood. 

" Loose his beard and hoary hair 

*' Streamed like a meteor to the troubled air. 

Of these lines, the two first present a picture which the 
imagination naturally views from below: the rest trans- 
port us to the immediate neighbourhood of the bard, by 
the minuteness of the delineation. 

As an obvious consequence of this rapidity of thought, 
it may be worth while here to remark, that the concep- 
tions of the Painter, which are necessarily limited, not 
only to one momentary glimpse of a passing object, but 
to one precise and unchangeable point of sight, cannot 
possibly give expression to those ideal creations, the 
charm of which depends, in a great degree, on their quick 
and varied succession; and on tlie ubiquity (if I may be 
allowed the phrase) of the Poet's eye. No better illustra- 
tion of this can be produced than the verses just quoted, 
compared with the repeated attempts which have been 
made to represent their subject on canvas. Of the vanity 
of these attempts it is sufficient to say, that, while the 
painter has but one point of sight, the "poet, from the na- 
ture of his art, has been enabled, in this instance, to avail 
himself of two^ without impairing, in theJeast, the effect 
of his description, by this sudden and unobserved shift- 
ing of the scenery.* 

* I cannot help thinking that Gray, while he professes to convey 
a different sentiment, has betrayed a secret consciousness of the un- 
rivalled powers which poetry derives from this latitude in the man- 



Chap. I.] ON THE SUBLIME. S55 

In consequence of the play of imagination now de- 
scribed, added to the influence of associations formerly 
remarked, it is easily conceivable in what manner Height 
and Depth, though precisely opposite to each other in 
their physical properties, should so easily accord together 
in the pictures which imagination forms; and should even, 
in many cases, be almost identified in the emotions which 
they produce. 

Nor will there appear any thing in this doctrine sa-- 
vouring of paradox, or of an undue spirit of theory, in 
the judgment of those who recollect, that, although the 
humour of Swift and of Arbuthnot has accustomed us to 
state the TTOX and the bagos as standing in direct op- 
position to each other, yet, according to the phraseology 
of Longinus, the oldest writer on the subject now extant, 
the opposite to the sublime is not the profound, but the 
humble^ the low, or the puerile,"^ In one very remarkable 

agement of her machinery, in his splendid but exaggerated panegyric 
on the designs with which Mr. Bentley decorated one of the editions 
of his bi3ok. The circumstances he has pitched on as characteristical 
of the genius of that artist, are certainly those in which the preroga- 
tives of poetry are the most incontestable. 

" In silent gaze, the tuneful choir among, 
" Half pleased, half blushing, let the muse admire, 

" While Bentley leads her sister art along, 
" And bids the pencil answer to the lyre. 

'•' See, in their course, each transitory thought^ 

tt p^xed by his touch, a lasti?ig essence take,' 
^* Hach dream, in fancy'' s airy colouring urotightf 

** To local sytninetry and life a'lxake. 

* To ^e ^MpoiKtuhg uvriK^v vTrivavTiov to<5 f^eyeB-icriy See. See. Sect. S. 

When Pope attempted to introduce the image of t/ie iirofound 
into poetry, he felt himself reduced to the necessity, instead of re- 
presenting his diinees as exerting themselves to dive to the bottom 



356 ' ON THE sublime; [Essay II. 

passage, which has puzzled several of his commentators 
not a little, v^o? and l^ocB-og, instead of being stated in 
contrast with each other, seem to be particularized as 
two things comprehended under some one common ^^- 
TtuSy corresponding to that expressed by the word altitudo 
in Latin. 'H^iv J^g ^Y.^^vo ^locTto^i^riov iv cc^^viy n zffriv v^ag rtg 
jj fiacB-ag nx^ij. Smith, in his English version, omits the 
second of these words entirely; acknowledging that he 
could not make sense of the passage as it now stands; and 
intimating his own approbation of^ a conjectural emenda- 
tion of Dr. TonstaPs, who proposed (very absurdly, in 
my opinion), to substitute TrocB-og for (io(.B-og, Pearce, on 
the other hand, translates v^og »j f^ocB-og sublimitas sive 
altitudo; plainly considering the word fi»B-og as intended 
by the author, in conjunction with v^^og, to complete that 
idea which the Greek language did not enable him to 
convey more concisely. As Pearce's translation is, in this 
instance, adopted, without the slightest discussion or ex- 
planation, by the very acute and learned Toup, in his 
edition of Longinus, it may be considered as also sanc- 
tioned by the high authority of his name.* 

of the ocean, to plunge them, one after another, into the dirt of Fleet- 
ditch: — 

" The king of dikes! than whom no sluice of mud 
" With deeper sable blots the silver flood." 

* * * 

" Next Smedley div'd: slow circles dimpled o'er 
*' The quaking mud, that clos'd and op'd no more,*' 

* * * 

"Then Hill essay'd: scarce vanish'd out of sight, 

*' He buoys up instant, and returns to light: 

" He bears no token of the sable streams, 

'"' And mounts aloft among the swans of Thames.'* 

* Note (B b). 



Chap, I] ON THE SUBLIME. 357 

The stress which the authors of Martinus Scrihlerus 
have laid upon Sublimity, in the literal sense of the word, 
together with the ludicrous parallel which they have so 
happily kept up between the art of risings and the art of 
sinking, has probably had no inconsiderable efi'ect in di- 
verting the graver critics who have since appeared, from 
an accurate examination of those obvious analogies and 
natural associations, which can alone explain some of the 
most perplexing difficulties connected with the object of 
our present inquiry.* 

* " The Sublime of nature is the sky, the sun, moon, stars. Sec. 
" The profound of nature is gold, pearls, precious stones, and the 
" treasures of the deep, which are inestimable ^s unknown. BuJ; all 
"that lies between these, as corn, flowers, fruits, animals, and things 
" for the mere use of man, are of mean price, and so common as not 
*' to be greatly esteemed by the curious." 

Art of Sinking in Poetry, chap. vi. 



358 ' ON THE SUBLIME. pEmyll. 



CHAPTER SECOND. 

GENERALIZATIONS OF THE WORD SUBLIMITY, IN CONSEqUENCE OF 
THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATIONS. 

JlSESIDE the circumstances already mentioned, a variety 
of others conspire to distinguish Subhmity or Altitude 
from all the other directions in which space is extended; 
and which, of consequence, conspire to invite the imagi- 
nation, on a correspondent variety of occasions, into one 
common track. The idea of Sublimity which is, in itself, 
so grateful and so flattering to the mind, becomes thus a 
common basis of a great multitude of collateral associa- 
tions; establishing universally^ wherever men are to be 
found, an affinity or harmony among the different things 
presented simultaneously to the thoughts; an affinity, 
which a man of good taste never fails to recognize, al- 
though he may labour in vain to trace any metaphysical 
principle of connection. It is in this way I would account 
for the application of the word Sublimity to most, if not 
to all the different qualities enumerated by Mr. Burke, as 
its constituent elements; instead of attempting to detect 
in these qualities some common circumstance, or circum- 
stances, enabling them to produce similar effects. In con- 
firmation of this remark, I shall point out, very briefly, a 
few of the natural associations attached to the idea of 
what is physically or literally Sublime, without paying 
much attention to the order in which I am to arrange 
them. 



dhap.II.] ON THE SUBLIME. ^ . 359 

It will contribute greatly to assist my readers in fol- 
lowing me through this argument, always to bear in mind, 
that the observations which I am to offer neither imply 
any dissdnt, on my part, from the critical decisions of 
former writers, nor tend to weaken, in the smallest de- 
gree, the authority of their precepts, so far as they are 
founded on a just induction of particulars. A universal 
association furnishes a basis of practice, as solid and as 
independent of the caprice of fashion as a metaphysical 
aiBnity or relation; and the investigation of the former is 
a legitimate object of philosophical curiosity no less than 
the latter. In the present instance, I am disposed to as- 
sent to most of the critical conclusions adopted both by 
Mr. Burke and by Mr. Price; and v/ere the case otherwise, 
I should be cautious in opposing my own judgment to 
theirs, on questions so foreign to my ordinary pursuits, 
how freely soever I may have presumed to canvass the 
opinions which they have proposed on some other points 
of a more speculative and abstract nature. 

Of all the associations attached to the idea of Sublimity, 
the most impressive are those arising from the tendency 
which the religious sentiments of men, in every age and 
country, have had to carry their thoughts upwards towards 
the objects of their worship. To what this tendency is ow- 
ing, I must not at present stop to inquire. It is sufficient 
for my purpose, if it be granted, (and this is a fact about 
which there cannot well be any dispute) that it is the re- 
sult of circumstances common to all the various condi- 
tions of mankind. In some cases, the heavens have been 
conceived to be the dwelling-place of the gods; in others, 
the sun, moon, and other heavenlv bodies, have them- 



360 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay II. 

selves been deified; but, in all cases, without exception, 
men have conceived their fortunes to depend on causes 
operating from above. Hence those apprehensions which, 
in all ages, they have been so apt to entertain, of the in- 
fluence of the Stars on human affairs. Hence, too, the as- 
trological meaning of the word ascendant^ together with 
its metaphorical application to denote the moral influence 
which one Mind may acquire over another.^ The lan- 
guage of scripture is exactly consonant to these natural 
associations. " If I beheld the Sun when it shined, or the 
'* Moon walking in brightness, and my heart hath been 
" secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand, 
** this also were an iniquity to be punished by the Judge, 
'* for I should have denied the God that is above." 

"I AM THE HIGH AND THE LOFTY OnE, WHO IN- 

^^ HABITETH ETERNITY." '' As THE HEAVENS ARE 

'* HIGH ABOVE THE EARTH, SO ARE MY THOUGHTS 
" ABOVE YOUR THOUGHTS, AND MY WAYS ABOVE 



* In the following line of Ennius, Jupiter and the Starry Sublime 
are used as synonymous expressions: 

" Aspice hoc sublime candeiis, quem invocant omnes ^ovem.^' 

It is ohserved by Sir William Jones, that " the Jupiter or Dies- 
<^ piTEii, here mentioned by Ennius, is the Indian God of the visible 
" heavens, called Indra, or the Xing', and Divespiter, or Lord of 
" the Sky; and that most of his epithets in Sanscrit are the same with 

" those of the Ennian Jove.- -His weapon is the thunderbolt; 

" he is the regent of winds and showers; and though the East is 
" peculiarly under his care, yet his Olymfius is Meru, or the North 
«' pole, allegorically represented as a mountain of gold and gems." — 
(Dissertation on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India.) 

The same natural association has evidently suggested the tower- 
ing forms so common in edifices consecrated to the memory of the 

9 



Ghap. II.3 ON THE SUBLIME. 361 

How closely the literal and the religions Sublime were 
associated together in the mind of Milton (whose taste 
seems to have been formed chiefly on the study of the 
poetical parts of the sacred writings) appears from num- 
berless passages in the Paradise Lost. 

« Now had th' almighty Father from above, 

" From the pure empyrean where he sits, 

" High throned above all height^ bent down his eye." 

In some cases, it may perhaps be doubted, whether 
Milton has not forced on the mind the image of literal 
height^ somewhat more strongly than accords perfectly 
with the overwhelming sublimity which his subject de- 
rives from so many other sources. At the same time, who 
would venture to touch, with a profane hand, the follow- 
ing verses? 

" So even and morn accomplished the sixth day, 
" Yet not till the Creator from his work 
" Desisting, though unwearied, up returned, 
" Up, to the heaven of heavens, his high abode^ 
'^ Thence to behold this new created world.'* 

" Up he rode 
" Followed with acclamation, and the sound 
" Syraphonious of ten thousand harps, that tuned 
« Angelic harmony; the earth, the air, 
" Resounding, (thou rememberest, for thou heard'st) 



dead, or to the ceremonies of religious worship; — the forms for exam- 
ple, of the pyramid; of the obelisk; of the column; and of the spires 
appropriated to our churches in this part of the world. 

" The village church, among the trees, 

" Shall pointy with taper spire, to Heaven." — Rogers. 

2Z 



362 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay II. 

" The heavens and all the constellations rung, 
" The planets in their stations listening stood, 
" While the bright pomp ascended jubilant .'' 

Is it not probable that the impression, produced by this 
association, strong as it still is, was yet stronger in ancient 
times? The discovery of the earth's sphericity, and of 
the general theory of gravitation, has taught us, that the 
words above and below have only a relative import. The 
?2<2^e/ra/ association cannot fail to be more or less counter- 
acted in every understanding to which this doctrine is 
familiarized; and, although it may not be 50 yar weakened 
as to destroy altogether the effect of poetical descriptions 
proceeding on popular phraseology, the effect must neces- 
sarily be very inferior to what it was in ages, when the 
notions of the wise concerning the local residence of the 
Gods were precisely the same with those of the vulgar» 
We may trace their powerful influence on the philosophy 
of Plato, in some of his Dialogues; and he is deeply in- 
debted to them for that strain of sublimity which charac- 
terizes those parts of his writings w4iich have more pe- 
culiarly excited the enthusiasm of his followers. 

The conclusions of modern science leave the imagina- 
tion at equal liberty to shoot, in all directions, through 
the immensity of space; suggesting undoubtedly, to a 
philosophical mind, the most grand ^nd magnificent of 
all conceptions; but a conception not nearly so well adap- 
ted tQ the pictures of poetry, as the popular illusion 
which places heaven exactly over our heads. Of the truth 
of this last remark no other proof is necessary than the 
doctrine of the Antipodes^ which, when alluded to in 
poetical description, produces an effect much less akin 
to the sublime than to the ludicrous. 



Chap. II.] ON THE SUBLIME, 363 

Hence an obvious account of the connection between 
the ideas of Sublimity and of Power. The Heavens v^^e 
conceive to be the abode of the Almighty; and when we 
implore the protection of his omnipotent arm, or express 
our resignation to his irresistible decrees, by an involun- 
tary movement, we lift our eyes upwards.^ 

As of all the attributes of God, Omnipotence is the 
most impressive in its effects upon the imagination, so 
the sublimest of all descriptions are those which turn on 
the infinite Power manifested in the fabric of the uni- 
verse; — in the magnitudes, (more especially) the dis- 
tances, and the velocities of the heavenly bodies; and in 
the innumerable systems of worlds which he has called 
into existence. " Let there be lights and there was light,^^ 
has been quoted as an instance of sublime WTiting by 
almost every critic since the time of Longinus; and its 
sublimity arises partly from the divine brevity with which 
it expresses the instantaneous effect of the creative j^^jf; 
pardy from the religious sentiment which it identifies with 
our conception of the moment, when the earth was first 
'* visited by the day-spring from on high." Milton ap- 
pears to have felt it in its full force, from the exordium 
of his hymn: 

" Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven first-born.'*t 

The sublimity of Lucretius will be found to depend 
chiefly (even in those passages w^here he denies the inter- 

* The same account may be given of the origin of various other 
natural signs, expressive of religious adoration; (pahias ad sidera 
tendcns^ Sec. Sec.) and of some ceremonies which have obtained very 
generally over the world, particularly that of offering ufi incense, 

t Note (C c). 



364 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay If, ' 

ference of the gods in the government of the world) on 
the lively images which he indirectly presents to his rea- 
ders, of the Attributes against which he reasons. In these 
instances, nothing is more remarkable than the skill with 
which he counteracts the frigid and anti-poetical spirit of 
his philosophical system; — the sublimest descriptions of 
Almighty Power sometmies forming a part of his argu- 
ment against the Divine Omnipotence. In point of logical 
consistency, indeed, he thus sacrifices every thing; but 
such a sacrifice he knew to be essential to his success as 
a, poet. 

" Nam (proh sancta Deum tranquilla pectora pace, 

" Qu3e piacidum degunt aevum, vitamque serenami) 

'r'Quis regere immensi summam, quis habere profundi 

"Indu manu validas potis est moderanter habenas? 

^' Quis pariter c(e1os omneis convertere? et omneis 

" Ignibus aetheriis terras suffire feraceis? 

" Omnibus inque locis esse omni tempore praesto^ 

<< Nubibus ut tenebras faciat coelique serena 

" Concutiat sonitu? tum fulmina mittat, et aedes 

«< Ssepe suas disturbet, et in deserta recedens 

"Sseviat exercens telum, quod saepe nocenteis 

*' Praeterit, exanimatque indignos, inque merenteis?"* 

The sublime effect of rocks and of cataracts; of huge 
ridges of mountains; of vast and gloomy forests; of im- 
mense and impetuous rivers; of the boundless ocean; 
and, in general, of every thing which forces on the at- 
tention the idea of Creative Power, is owing, in part,t 

* Lucret. Lib. 2. 1092. 

1 1 say in/iart, as it will afterwards appear that other circumstances, 
of a very different sort, conspire to the same endo- 



Cliap. Il.g ON THE SUBLIME, 365 

to the irresistible tendency which that idea has to raise 
the thoughts toward Heaven. — The influence of some of 
these spectacles, in awakening religious impressions, is 
nobly exemplified in Gray's ode, written at the Grande 
Chartreuse; — an Alpine scene of the wildest and most 
awful grandeur, where every thing appears fresh from the 
hand of Omnipotence, inspiring a sense of the more im- 
mediate presence of the Divinity. 

" Prasentiorem et consfiicimus Deum 
" Per invias rupes, fera per juga, 
" Clivosque praeruptos, sonantes 

" Inter aquas, nemorumque nocteni; 
" Quam si repostus sub trabe citrea 
" Fulgeret auro, et Phidiaca manu." 

The same very simple theory appears to me to afford 
a satisfactory account of the application of the word 
Sublimity to Eternity, to Immensity,^ to Omnipresence^ 
to Omniscience; — in a word, to all the various qualities 
which enter into our conceptions of the Divine Attri- 
butes. As my object, however, in this essay, is not to 
write a treatise on the Sublime, but merely to suggest 
slight hints for the consideration of others, I shall con- 
tent myself with remarking farther, under this head, the 
influence which the sacred writings must have had, all 
over the Christian world, in adding solemnity and majesty 
to these natural combinations. If the effect of mere 
elevation be weakened in a philosophical mind, by the 
discoveries of modern science, all the adjuncts, physical 
and moral, which revelation teaches us to connect with 

* Note (D d). 



3i66 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay II. 

the name of the *^ Most High," have gained an infinite 
accession of Sublimity. 

From the associations thus consecrated in scripture^ a 
plausible explanation might be deduced, of the poetical 
effect of almost all the qualities which Mr. Burke, and 
other modern critics, have enumerated as constituents of 
the Sublime; but it is gratifying to the curiosity to push 
the inquiry farther, by shewing the deep root which the 
same associations have in the physical and moral nature 
of the human race; and the tendency which even the 
superstitious creeds of ancient times had to confirm their 
authority. 

In some respects, indeed, these creeds were admirably 
fitted for the purposes of poetry; in none more than in 
strengthening that natural association between the ideas 
of the Sublime and of the Terrible, which Mr. Burke 
has so ingeniously, and I think justly, resolved into the 
connection between this last idea and that of Power. The 
region from which Superstition draws all her omens and 
anticipations of futurity lies over our heads. It is there 
she observes the aspects of the planets, and the eclipses 
of the sun and moon; or watches the fiight of birds, and 
the shifting lights about the pole. This, too, is the region 
of the most awful and alarming meteorological appear- 
ances, — *' vapours and clouds and storms;" and (what is 
a circumstance of peculiar consequence in this argument) 
of thunder, which has, in all countries, been regarded by 
the multitude, not only as the immediate effect of super- 
natural interposition, but as an expression of displeasure 
from above. It is accordingly from this very phenomenon 
(as Mr. Burke has remarked) that the word astonishment y 



CT.ap. n J ON THE SUBLIME 567 

which expresses the strongest emotion produced by the 
Sublime, is borrowed. 

If the former observations be just, instead of consider- 
ing, with Mr. Burke, Terror as the ruHng principle of 
the religious sublime^ it would be nearer the truth to sa}^ 
that the Terrible derives whatever character of Sublimity 
belongs to it from religious associations. The application 
of the epithet Sublime to these^ has, I trust, been already 
sufficiently accounted for. 

It may not be improper to add, with respect to the 
awful phenomenon of thunder, that the intimate combina- 
tion between its impression on the ear, and those appear- 
ances in the heavens which are regarded as its signs or 
forerunners, must not only cooperate with the circum- 
stances mentioned by Mr. Burke, in imparting to Dark- 
ness the character of the Terrible, but must strengthen, 
by a process still more direct, the connection between the 
ideas of Darkness and of mere Elevation. 

" Fulmina gigni de crassis, alteque putandum est 
" Nubibus extructis: nam coelo nulla sereno, 
"Nee leviter densis mittuntur nubibus unquam/'* 

" Eripiunt subito nubes coelumque diemque 
" Teucrorum ex oculis; ponto nox incubat atra; 
" Intonuere poli/'f 

The same direction is naturally given to the fancy, by 
the Darkness which precedes hurricanes; and also, dur- 
ing an eclipse of the sun, by the disastrous twilight shed 
on half the nations. Even in common discourse, as well 

* See the rest of this passage? Lucret. Lib. 6, 
^ .€neid. Lib. L 



36B ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay H, 

as in poetry, we speak of the Jail of night, and of the fall 
of evening. 

" Down rushed the night." 

In general, fancy refers to the visible heavens, the source 
of Darkness as well as of Light; and accordingly, both of 
these (as Mr. Burke has remarked), have sometimes an 
important place assigned to them, in sublime descriptions. 
They both, indeed, accord and harmonize perfectly with 
this natural group of associations; — abstracting altogether 
from the powerful aid which they occasionally contribute 
in strengthening the other impressions connected with the 
Terrible. 

And here, I must beg leave to turn the attention of my 
readers, for a moment, to the additional effect which these 
conspiring associations (more particularly those arising 
from religious impressions) lend to every object which 
we consider as Sublime, in the literal sense of that word. 
I before took notice of the sublime flight of the Eagle; 
but what an accession of poetical sublimity has the Eagle 
derived from the attributes ascribed to him in ancient 
mythology, as the sovereign of all the other inhabitants of 
the air; as the companion and favourite of Jupiter; and as 
the bearer of his armour in the war against the giants! In 
that celebrated passage of Pindar, (so nobly imitated by 
Gray and by Akenside) where he describes the power of 
music in soothing the angry passions of the gods; the 
abruptness of the transition from the thunderbolt to the 
eagl^; and the picturesque minuteness of the subsequent 

* Odyss. Lib. 5. 294. 



Chap. II. J ON THE SUBLIME. 369 

lines, sufficiently shew what a rank was occupied by this 
bird in the warm imagination of Grecian idolatry.^—* 
Of the two English poets, just mentioned, it is observa- 
ble that the former has made no farther reference to Jupi- 
ter, than as carrying " the feathered king on his scepter'd 
" hand;'' but in order to compensate for this omission, 
he has contrived, in his picture of the eagle's sleep, by 
the magical charm of figurative language, to suggest, 
indirectly, the very same sublime image with which the 
description of Pindar commences: 

" Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie, 

" The terror of his beak, and lightning of his eye.^*t 

After these remarks, it will not appear surprising that 

* K«; T«V 06l^f4.CiT^V Kifecvvov cr^ivvvu^ 
Aivxa TTv^og. Ev- 

dii civct orKcATrTa A/es etaro^^ ScC. &C. 

t May I be permitted to add, that in Akenside's imitation, as well as 
in the original, the reader is prepared for the short episode of the 
Eagle, (which in all the three descriptions is unquestionably the most 
prominent feature) by the previous allusion to the ks^xwov oavocov ttw 
qoii — and to suggest my doubts, whether in Gray, the transition to 
this picture from Thracia's Hills and the Lord of War, be not a little 
too violent, even for lyric poetry. — The English reader may judge of 
this, from the verses of Akenside. 

*' Those lofty strings 
" That charm the mind of gods; that fill the courts 
*' Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet 
" Of evils, with immortal rest from cares, 
" Assuage the terrors of the throne of Jove; 
*' And quench the formidable thunderbolt 
"Of unrelenting fire. With slacken'd wings, 
" While now the solemn concert breathes around, 
" Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord, 
" Sleeps the stern eagle; by the number'd notes 
" Possess'd, and satiate with the melting tone; 
" Sovereign of birds." 

3 A 



370 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay IL 

the same language should be transferred from the objects 
of religious worship, to whatever is calculated to excite the 
analogous, though comparatively weak sentiments of ad- 
miration and of wonder. The u^ord siispicere (to look up) 
is only one example out of many which might be men- 
tioned. Cicero has furnished us with instances of its ap- 
plication, both to the religious sentiment, and to the enthu- 
siastic admiration with which we regard some of the ob- 
jects of taste. '* Esse prsestantem aliquam seternamque na- 
'^ turam, et earn suspiciendam admii andamque hominum 
" generi, pulchritudo mundi ordoque rerum coelestium 
" cogit confiteri."* — " Eloquentiam, quam suspicerent 
" omnes, quam admirarentur," &c.t On the latter occa- 
sion, as well as on the former, the words suspicio and 
admiror are coupled together, in order to convey more 
forcibly one single idea. 

On this particular vievv of the sublime, considered in 
connection with religious impressions, I have only to take 
notice farther, of a remarkable coincidence between their 
influence and that of the 'feelings excited by literal Sub- 
limity, in assimilating the poetical effects of the two op- 
posite dimensions of Depth and of Height. In the case of 
literal Sublimity, I have already endeavoured to account 
for this assimilation. In that now before us, it seems to 
be the obvious result of those conceptions, so natural to 
the human mind, which have universally suggested a 
separation of the invisible world into two distinct regions; 
the one situated at an immense distance above the earth's 
surface; the other at a corresponding distance below; — - 

* De Divinat. Lib. 2. f Orat. 28. 



€hap. 11] ON THE SUBLIME, 371 

the one a blissful and glorious abode, to which virtue is 
taught to aspire as its final reward; the other inhabited by 
beings in a state of punishment and of degradation. The 
powers to whom the infliction of this punishment is 
committed, cannot fail to be invested by the fancy as the 
ministers and executioners of divine justice, with some 
of the attributes which are characteristical of the Sublime; 
and this association it seems to have been a great object 
©f the heathen mythology to strengthen, as much as pos- 
sible, by the fabulous accounts of the alliances between 
the celestial and the infernal deities; and by other fictions 
of a similar tendency. Pluto was the son of Saturn, and 
the brother of Jupiter; Proserpine, the daughter of Jupi- 
ter and of Ceres; and even the river Styx was conse- 
crated into a divinity, held in veneration and dread by all 
the Gods. 

The language of the inspired writings is, on this as on 
other occasions, beautifully accommodated to the irresist- 
ible impressions of nature; availing itself of such popular 
and familiar w^ords as upwards and downwards^ above and 
below^ in condescension to the frailty of the human mind, 
governed so much by sense and imagination, and so little by 
the abstractions of philosophy. Hence the expression of 
fallen Angels, which, by recalling to us the eminence from 
which they fell, communicates, in a single word, a cha- 
racter of Sublimity to the bottomless abyss: '* How art 
** thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morn- 
" ing!" The Supreme Being is himself represented as 
filling hell with his presence; while the throne where he 
manifests his glory is conceived to be placed on high: 



372 ON THE SUBLIME. fEssay H. 

" If I ascend into heaven, thou art there; if I make my 
" bed in hell, thou art there also." 

To these associations, Darkness, Power, Terror, Eter- 
nity, and various other adjuncts of Sublimity, lend their 
aid in a manner too palpable to admit of any comment. 



Chap. m.1 ON THE SUBLIME 373 



CHAPTER THIRD. 

GENERALIZATIONS OF SUBLIMITY INCONSEQUENCE OF ASSOCIATIONS 
RESULTING FROM THE PHENOMENA OF GRAVITATION, AND FROM 
THE OTHER PHYSICAL ARRANGEMENTS WITH WHICH OUR SENSES 
ARE CONVERSANT. 

W HEN we confine our views to the earth's surface, a 
variety of additional causes conspire, with those already 
suggested, to strengthen the association between Elevated 
Position and the ideas of Power, or of the Terrible. I 
shall only mention the security it affords against a hos- 
tile attack, and the advantage it yields in the use of mis- 
sile weapons; two circumstances which give an expressive 
propriety to the epithet commanding^ as employed in the 
language of Fortification. 

In other cases, elevated objects excite emotions still 
more closely allied to admiration and to awe, in conse- 
quence of our experience of the effect of heavy bodies 
falling downwards from a great height. Masses of water, 
in the form of a mountain-torrent, or of a cataract, pre- 
sent to us one of the most impressive images of irresisti- 
ble impetuosity which terrestrial phenomena afford; and 
accordingly have an effect, both on the eye and on the ear, 
of peculiar Sublimity, of which poets and orators have 
often availed themselves to typify the overwhelming pow- 
ers of their respective arts. 



7- 



374 ON THE SUBUME. pssayU, 

^* Monte decurrens velut amnis, imbres 
" Quern super notas aluere ripas, 
*^ Fervet, immensusqiie ruit profundo 
" Pindarus ore." 

" Now the rich stream of music winds along, 

*« Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong; 

^' Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reigny 

^'» Now rolling down the steep amain, 

^* Headlong impetuous see it pour, 

" The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar." 

"' At ille" (says Quinctilian, speaking of the difterent 
kinds of eloquence) " qui saxa devolvat, et pontem in- 
" dignetur, et ripas sibi faciat, multus et torrens, judicem 
** vel nitentem contra feret, cogetque ire qua rapit.''* 

The tendency of these circumstances, in conjunction 
with others before mentioned, to associate a sublime effect 
with motion downwards^ is too obvious to require any il- 
lustration; and accordingly, it opens a rich field of allusion 
to poets, wherever an idea is to be conveyed of mighty 
force and power; or where emotions are to be produced^ 
allied to terror. Motion upwards^ on the other hand, and 
perhaps still more, whatever is able to oppose an adequate 
resistance to a superincumbent weight, or to a descen. 
ding shock, furnishes, for reasons hereafter to be explain- 
ed, the most appropriate images subservient to that mo- 
dification of the Sublime, w^hich arises from a strong ex- 
pression of mental energy. 

In looking up to the vaulted roof of a Gothic Cathedral, 
our feelings differ, in one remarkable circumstance, from 

* Quinct. L. 12, c» 3^ 



C!iap.IIia ON THE SUBLIME. 375 

those excited by torrents and cataracts; that whereas, in 
the latter instances, we see the momentum of falling 
masses actually exhibited to our senses; in the former^ 
we see the triumph of human art, in rendering the law 
of gravitation subservient to the suspension of its own 
ordinary effects: 

-" Tlie ponderous roof, 



« By its own weight made stedfast and immoveable/* 

An emotion of Wonder, accordingly, is here added to 
that resulting from the Sublimity of Loftiness and of 
Power.— -As we are placed too, immediately under the 
incumbent mass, the idea of the Terrible is brought home 
to the imagination more directly; and would, in fact, to- 
tally overpower our faculties with the expectation of our 
inevitable and instant destruction, were it not for the ex- 
perimental proof we have had of the stability of similar 
edifices. It is this natural apprehension of impending 
danger, checked and corrected every moment by a 
rational conviction of our security, which seems to pro- 
duce that silent and pleasing awe which we experience 
on entering within their walls; and which so perfectly ac- 
cords with the other associations awakened by the sanctity 
of the place, and with the sublimity of the Being in 
whom they are centered.^ 

* An emotion of ivonder^ analogous to that excited by the vaulted 
F6of of a cathedral, enters deeply into the pleasing effect produced by 
a majestic arch thrown across a river or a gulf. That it does not de- 
pend merely on the beauty of form, or upon vastness of dimension, 
appears clearly from the comparative meanness of an iron bridge, 
though executed on a far greater scale. I was never more disap- 
pointed in my life than when I first saw^ the l?ridg^e at Sunderlando 

In 



376 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay II. 

The effect of the habits of thought and of feeling which 
have been just described, give not only a propriety but 
a beauty to epithets expressive of the Terrible, even 
when applied to the great elevation of things from which 
no danger can, for a moment, be conceived to be pos- 
i^ble. 

"—."Where not a precipice frowns o'er the heath 
'•'■ To rouse a noble horror in the soul.'* 

" Mark how the dread pantheon stands 
" Amid the domes of modern hands: 
" Amid the toys of idle state, 
^' How simply, how severely great!" 

To all this it may be added, that the momentum of fail- 
ing bodies is one of the most obvious resources of which 
Man avails himself for increasing his physical power, in 
the infancy of the mechanical arts. Even in the hostile 
exertions made with the rudest weapons of offence, such 
as the club and the mace, power is always employed yro/72 
above; and the same circumstance of superiority^ in the 
literal sense of that word, is considered as the most de- 
cisive mark of victory in still closer conflict. The idea 

In the following rude lines of Churchill, which Mr. Tooke's letter 
to Junius has made familiar to every ear, the feelings which give to 
the stone arch its peculiar character of grandeur are painted with 
equal justness and spirit: 

" 'Tis the last key-stone 



" That makes the arch; the rest that there were put, 
*' Are nothing- till that comes to bind and shut. 
" Then stands it a triumphal mark:tlien men 
" Observe the sti-eng-th, the height, the why and when 
** It was erected; and still, walking under, 
" Meet some new matter to look up and wonder." 
Q 



Chap.m.] ON THE SUBLIME. . 377 

of Power, accordingly, comes naturally to be associated 
with the quarter from which it can alone be exerted in 
the most advantageous and effectual manner; and that of 
weakness with prostration, inferiority and submission. 

When these different considerations are combined, it 
will not appear surprising, that the ideas of Power and of 
High Station, should, in their application to our own 
species, be almost identified; insomuch that, in using this 
last expression, we are scarcely conscious of speaking 
metaphorically. A similar remark may be extended to 
the following phrases; High rank — High birth — High- 
spirited — High-minded; High-Priest — High-Churchman 
Serene Highness — High and Mighty Prince. The epithet 
Sublime, when applied to the Ottoman Court, affords 
another example of the same association. Sir William 
Temple's comparison of the subordination and gradations 
of ranks in a mixed monarchy to a Pyramid; and Mr. 
Burke's celebrated allusion to the ** Corinthian Capitals 
^' of Society," are but expansions and illustrations of this 
proverbial and unsuspected figure of speech. 

The same considerations appear to me to throw a satis- 
factory light on that intimate connection between the 
ideas of Sublimity and of Energy which Mr. Knight 
has fixed on as the fundamental principle of his theory. 
The direction in which the energies of the human mind 
are conceived to be exerted, will, of course, be in oppo- 
sition to that of the powers to which it is subjected; of 
the dangers which hang over it; of the obstacles which it 
has to surmount in rising to distinction. Hence the meta- 
phorical expressions of an unbending spirit; of bearing up 

3B 



378 ON THE SUBLIME. pssaj- II 

against the pressure of misfortune; of an aspiring or 
towering ambition, and innumerable others. Hence, too, 
an additional association, strengthening wonderfully the 
analogy, already mentioned, between Sublimity and cer» 
tain Moral qualities; qualities which, on examination, 
will be found to be chiefly those recommended in the 
Stoical School; implying a more than ordinary energy of 
mind, or of what the French call Force of Character. In 
truth, Energy, as contradistinguished from Power, is 
but a more particular and modified conception of the 
same idea; comprehending the cases where its sensible 
effects do not attract observation; but where its silent 
operation is measured by the oppo^tion it resists, or by 
the weight it sustains. The brave man, accordingly, was 
considered by the Stoics as partaking of the sublimity of 
that Almighty Being who puts him to the trial; and whom 
they conceived as witnessing, with pleasure, the erect 
and undaunted attitude in which he awaits the impending 
storm, or contemplates the ravages which it has spread 
around him. " Non video quid habeat in terris Jupiter 
*' pulchrius, quam ut spectet Catonem, jam partibus non 
** semel fractis, stantem nihilominus inter ruinas publicas 
" rectum,^'' 

It is this image of mental energy, bearing up against 
the terrors of overwhelming Power, which gives so strong 
a poetical effect to the description of Epicurus in Lucre- 
tius; and also to the character of Satan, as conceived by 
Miiton. But in all these cases, the sublimity of Energy, 
when carefully analyzed, will be found to be merely rela- 
tive; or, if I may use the expression, to be only a reflec- 



Chap.m.J ON THE SUBLIME. ' 379 

tion from the sublimity of the Power to which it is op- 
posed.* 

It will readily occur as an objection to some of the 
foregoing conclusions, that horizontal extent, as well; as 
great altitude , is an element of the Sublime. Upon the 
slightest reflection, however, it must appear obvious, that 
this extension of the meaning of Sublimity arises entirely 
from the natural association between elevated position 
and a commanding prospect of the earth's surface, in all 
directions. As the most palpable measure of elevation is 
the extent of view which it affords, so, on the other hand, 
an enlarged horizon recals impressions connected with 
great elevation. The plain of Yorkshire, and perhaps still 
in a greater degree, Salisbury plain, produces an emotion 
approaching to sublimity on the mind of a Scotchman, 
the first time he sees it; — an emotion, I am persuaded, 
very different from what would be experienced, on the 
same occasion, by a Fleming or a Dutchman; and this, 
abstracting altogether from the charm of novelty. The 
feelings connected with the wide expanse over which his 
eje was accustomed to wander from the summits of Iiis 
native mountains, and w^hich, in hilly countries, are to be 
enjoyed exclusively, during the short intervals of a 
serene sky, from eminences which, in general, are lost 
among the clouds,— these feelings, are in some measure, 
awakened by that enlarged horizon which now every 
where surrounds him; the principle of Association, in 

* The pleasure we feel in the consciousness of energy is but a 
particular case of that arising from the consciousness of Powero 

With respect to the pleasure connected with the consciousness of 
Power, see some remarks in a small volume, entitled " Outlines of 
Moral Philosophy," by the author of this work» 



380 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay 11. 

this, as in numberless other cases, transferring whatever 
emotion is necessarily connected with a particular idea, 
to every thing else which is inseparably linked with it in 
the memory. 

This natural association between the ideas of Elevation 
and of Horizontal Extent is confirmed and enlivened by 
another, arising also from the physical laws of our per- 
ceptions. It is a curious, and at the same time a well 
known fact, that, in proportion as elevation or any other 
circumstance widens our horizon, the enlargement of our 
horizon adds to the apparent height of the vault above 
us. It was long ago remarked by Dr. Smith of Cam- 
bridge, that *^ the known distance of the terrestrial objects 
" which terminate our view, makes that part of the sky 
^* which is towards the horizon, appear more distant than 
" that which is towards the zenith; so that the apparent 
'* figure of the sky is not that of a hemisphere, but of a 
" smaller segment of a sphere." To this remark a later 
writer has added, that " when the visible horizon is ter- 
" minated by very distant objects, the celestial vault seems 
** to be enlarged in all its dimensions."—" When I view 
" it" (he observes) " from a confined street or lane, it 
" bears some proportion to the buildings that surround 
" me; but when I view it from a large plain, terminated 
*' on all hands by hills which rise one above another, to 
" the distance of twenty miles from the eye, methinks I 
" see a new heaven, whose magnificence declares the 
*^ greatness of its author, and puts every human edifice 
** out of countenance; for now, the lofty spires and the 
** gorgeous palaces shrink into nothing before it, and bear 
*' no more proportion to the celestial dome, than their 



Chap.ra.J ON THE SUBLIME. 381 

"makers bear to its maker."* — Let the same experi- 
ment be tried from the summit of a lofty mountain, com- 
manding an immense prospect all around of land and of 
sea; and the effect will be found to be magnified on a scale 
beyond description. 

To those who have verified this optical phenomena by 
their own observation, it will not appear surprising, that 
the word Sublimity should have been transferred from 
the vertical line, not only to the horizontal surface, but 
also to the immense concavity of the visible hemisphere. 
As these various modifications of space are presented to 
the eye at the same moment, each heightening the effect 
of the others, it is easily conceivable that the same epi- 
thet should be insensibly applied to them in common; and 
that this common epithet should be borrowed from that 
dimension on which so much of the general result prima- 
rily depends, t 

Another extension of the word Sublimity seems to be 
in part explicable on the same principle; I mean the ap- 
plication we occasionally make of it to the emotion pro- 
duced by looking downwards. For this latitude of ex- 
pression I already endeavoured to account from other 
considerations; but the soluiion will appear still more 
satisfactory, when it is recollected, that, along with that 
apparent enlargement of the celestial vault, which we en- 
joy from a high mountain, there is an additional percep- 
tion, which comes home still more directly to our personal 
feelings, that of the space by which we are separated from 
the plain below. With this perception a feeling of Awe 

* Reid's Inquiry, chap. vi. sect, 22. f Note (E e). 



282 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay 11. 

(arising partly from the giddy eminence on which we 
stand, and partly from the solitude and remoteness of our 
situation) is, in many cases, combined; a feeling which 
cannot fail to be powerfully instrumental in binding the 
association between depth, and the other elements which 
swell the complicated emotion excited by the rare inci- 
dent of an Alpine prospect, 

" What dreadful pleasure there to stand sublime, 

<* Like shifowreck'd mariner on desert coastj 

" And view th' enormous waste of vapours toss'd 

*' In billows lengthening to th* horizon round; 

" Now scoop'd in gulfs, in mountains now emboss'd.*'* 

With respect to the concavity over our heads, (and of 
^2^hich, how far soever we may travel on the earth's sur- 
face, the summit or cope is always exactly coincident with 
our shifting zenith) it is farther observable, that its sub- 
lime effect is much increased by the mathematical regu- 
larity of its form; suggesting the image of a vast Rotundo^ 
having '^ its centre every where, and its circumference 
nowhere;" a circumstance which forces irresistibly on the 
mind, the idea of something analogous to architectural 
design, carried into execution by Omnipotence itself. 
This idea is very strongly stated in the passage which was 
last quoted; and it is obviously implied in the familiar 
transference of the words Vault and Dome, from the edi- 

* Accordingly, we find the poets frequently employing words 
synonymous with Height and Depth, as if they were nearly converti- 
ble terms: " Blue Profound." — (Akenside). — '* Rode Sublime, 
The secrets of th' Abyss to spy.'* — (Gray). " Coelum Profundum." — • 
(Virgil.) The phrase Profunda Altitudo is used, even by prose 
\7riters. An example of it occurs in Livy; 38. 23. 



Chap. Ill] ON THE SUBLIME. 383 

fices of the builder to the divine handywork. — ^' This 
" majesticalroof, fretted with golden fires," — an expres- 
sion which Shakespeare applies to the firmament, has been 
suggested by the same analogy. 

As the natural bias of the imagination, besides, is to 
conceive the firmament to be something solids in which 
the sun, moon, and stars, are mechanically fixed, a senti- 
ment of Wonder at the unknown means by which the 
law of gravity is, in this instance, counteracted, comes to 
be superadded to the emotion excited by the former com- 
bination of circumstances. This sentiment is very fre- 
quently expressed by children; and the feelings of child- 
hood have often an influence of which we are little aware 
(more especially in matters of Taste) on those which are 
experienced in the maturity of our judgment.* 

The sublime effect of the celestial vault is still farther 
heightened by the vast and varied space which the eye 
has to travel over in rising gradually from the horizon to 
the zenith: — contemplating, at one time, the permanent 
glories of the starry expanse; at another, enjoying the 
magical illusions with which, from sunrise till sunset, the 
clouds diversify the sky. To this immediate impression 
produced upon the senses, must be added the play given 
to the imagination, in supplying the remainder of that 
grand spectacle under which we are placed, and of which 
the sight can take in only, at one and the same moment, 
a limited portion. As the smallest arch of a circle ena- 
bles us to complete the whole circumference, so the slight- 
est glance of the heavens presents to our conceptions the 

* " Aspice convexo nutantem pondere mundum.'* 

Virg, Bucol.iv.l. 50. 



384 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay H. 

entire hemisphere; inviting the thoughts to grasp, at once, 
what the laws of vision render it impossible for us to per- 
ceive, but in slow succession. The ingenious and well- 
known remark which Mr. Burke has made on the plea- 
sure we receive from viewing a Cylinder, appears to me 
to hold, with much greater exactness, when applied to 
the effect of a Spacious Dome on a spectator placed under 
its concavity. 

In all such cases, however, as have been now under 
our consideration, notwithstanding the variety of circum- 
stances by which the effect is augmented or modified, I 
am inclined to think, that Sublimity, literally so called, 
will be found, in one vi^ay or another, the predominant 
element or ingredient. In the description, for example, 
which Mr. Brydone has given of the boundless prospect 
from the top of iEtna, the effect is not a little increased 
by the astonishing elevation of the spot from whence we 
conceive it to have been enjoyed; and it is increased in a 
degree incomparably greater, by the happy skill with 
which he has divided our attention between the spectacle 
below, and the spectacle above, — Even in the survey of 
the upper regions, it will be acknowledged by those who 
reflect carefully on their own experience, that the eye 
never rests till it reaches the zenith; a point to which 
numberless accessary associations, both physical and 
moral, unite in lending their attractions. 

After the remarks which have been already made on 
the natural association between the ideas of elevation, and 
of horizontal amplitude in general, it may, at first sight, 
appear superfluous to say any thing farther with respect 
to the Sublimity which is universally ascribed to the 

2 



Chap. III. J ON THE SUBLIME. 385 

Ocean, even when its waves are still. In this particular 
case, however, the effect is so peculiarly strong, that it 
may be fairly presumed, other collateral causes conspire 
with those which have been hitherto mentioned; and ac- 
cordingly, a variety of specific circumstances instantly 
occur, as distinguishing the surface of a smooth sea from 
all the other instances in which the epithet Sublime is 
applied to what is perfectly flat or leVel. 

1. Of these circumstances one of the most prominent 
is the unfathomable depth of the ocean; or, in other words, 
the immeasurable elevation above its bottom, of those 
who navigate upon its surface. Agreeably to this idea, 
mariners are described in Scripture, as those " who see 
*' the wonders of the great deep;" and the same language 
is employed by Gray, to exalt our conceptions even of 
the sublime flight of the eagle. 

" Sailing- with supreme dominion 
" Thro' the azure deeii8 of air.'* 

2. The sympathetic dread associated with the perilous 
fortunes of those who trust tbtmselves to that inconstant 
and treacherous element. It is owing to this, that in its 
most placid form, its temporary effect in soothing or com- 
posing the spirits is blended with feelings somewhat 
analogous to what are excited by the sleep of a lion; the 
calmness of its surface pleasing chiefly, from the contrast 
it exhibits to the terrors which it naturally inspires.^' 

* Gray had manifestly this analogy in his view, when he wrote th^ 
following hnes:— . 

** Unmindful of the sweeping whirlwind's sway 

*^ That hiish*d in grim repose expects its evening prey." 

3C 



386 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay U. 

3. ThQ idG2L of literal sudli?nitt/ inseparably combined 
with that of the sea, from the stupendous spectacle it ex- 
hibits when agitated by a storm. The proverbial phrase 
of mountain billows sufficiently illustrates the force and 
the universality of this combination. A tempestuous sea 
of mountains is accordingly an expression applied by an 
ingenious writer, to the prospect which is seen in one di- 
rection from the top of Skiddaw; and it would not be easy, 
in the same number of words, to convey a juster concep- 
tion of what he wished to describe. To those who have 
actually navigated the deep, at a distance from every visi- 
ble coast, the same combination of ideas must present it- 
self, even when the surface of the water is perfectly tran- 
quil. Homer has accurately seized this natural impression 
of the fancy: 

** AAA* oTS 5>j T>5V i'»7fly sAgiTo^gv, yJe r;? «jAAj} 

Odyss. Lib. 12. 1. 403. 

4. The complete dependence of the state of the ocean 
on that of the atmosphere; and the association, or rather 
identification, of winds and waves in the common images 
of danger which they both suggest. 

In the descriptions of shipwrecks, which occur in the 
ancient poets, the sublimity will be found to result in no 
inconsiderable degree from this identification; and indeed, 
in this, as in many other instances, the language of my- 
thology is little more than a personification of the natural 
workings of the mind. 

* " Past sight of shore, along the surge we bound; 
" And all above is sky, and ocean all argund." 



Chap. III.] ON THE SUBLIME. 387 

" *Cli iiTaVy trvvecyev veipiXccg-i irx^st^i h TrovraVf 

*^ HxvToiav eivifAuy. cvv Se yi(p6t(7(rt KocXv'l'e 

Odyss. Lib. 5. I. 290. 

" AAA«t8 5* oi'JT Evg@«> Zi^v^a «|flt(rxe S<^««v."t 

Odyss. Lib. 5. L SSL 

5. The aid which the art of navigation, in all the stages 
of its progress, derives from the observation of the stars; 
and the consequent bias given to the fancy, to mount 
from the ocean to the heavens. A pilot seated at the helm, 
with his eye fixed on the Pole, while the rest of the crew 
abandon themselves to sleep, forms an interesting picture 
in some of the noblest productions of human genius. In 
the Odyssey, this astronomical association is employed 
with wonderful success by the genius of Homer, to im- 
part a character of Sublimity, even to the little raft 
of Ulysses, during his solitary voyage from Calypso's 
island. 

" A^icrav 3-', h ^ «jWot|<«v iTrix.M'^iV xuMHiriVy 



* " He spoke, and high the forky trident liurl'd 
" Rolls clouds on clouds, and stirs the watery v/orldj 
" At once the face of earth and sea deforms, 
" Swells all the winds, and rouses all the storms." 

t " And now the south and now the north prevails, 
" Now o'er the ocean sweep the eastern gales, 
** And now the west winds rend the fluttering sails." 



1 



388 ON THE SUBLIME. [Escay tt 

Odyss. Lib, 5. 1. 270* 

Agreeably to the same bias of the fancy, the prhicipal 
constellations in our astronomical sphere have been sup- 
posed, with no inconsiderable probability, to be emble- 
matical of circumstances and events connected with the 
oldest voyage alluded to in profane history, the expedition 
of the Argonauts. — What an accession of strength must 
have been added, in every philosophical mind, to this na- 
tural association, in consequence of the methods practis- 
ed by the moderns for finding the latitude and the longi- 
tude! On the other hand, it must be acknowledged, that 
the poetical effect, must, to a certain degree, have been 
weakened by the discovery of the polarity of the needle. 

In minds which have been impressed, in early life, 
with the fabulous and popular accounts of the origin of 
astronomy, the same association of literal sublimity with 
the objects of that study, imparts somewhat of the same 
character, even to the plains and to the shepherds of an- 
cient Chaldea.f 

* " PlacM at the helm he sate, and mark'd the skieg, 
" Nor clos'd in sleep, his ever-watchful eyes. 
" There view'd the Pleiads, and the Northern Team, 
^' And great Orion's more refulgent beam, 
^^ To which, around the axle of the sky 
<* The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye; 
" Who shines exalted on th' etherial plain, 
<' Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main." 

t Principio Assyrii, /irojiter filanitiem magnitudinemque regionum 
quae incolebantf cum caelum ex omni parte fiatens atque afiertum in- 
tuercntur^ trajectiones motusque stellarum observaverunt. — Qua in 
natione, Chaldaei, diuturna observatione siderum scientiam putantiiif 
effecisse? Sec. &:c.— -Cic. de Divinat. ' 



Ghap. in.] ON THE SUBLIME. 389 

' 6. The variety of modes in which the ocean presents 
to us the idea of power. Among these, there are two 
which more particularly deserve attention. (1.) Its ten- 
dency to raise our thoughts to that Being whose " hand 
** heaves its billows;" and who *' has given his decree to 
** the seas, that they might not pass his commcindment." 
(2.) Its effect in recalling to us the proudest triua.ph of 
Man, in accomplishing the task assigned to him, of sub- 
duing the earth and the elements. — Beside, however, 
these associations, which are common to the inhabitants 
of all maritime countries, a prospect of the sea must 
frequently awaken, in every native of this island, many 
sublime recollections which belong exclusively to our- 
selves; those recollections, above all others, which turn 
on the naval commerce, the naval power, and the naval 
glory of England; and on the numerous and triumphant 
fleets which " bear the British thunder o'er the world. ^'* 
7. The easy transition by which a moralizing fancy 
passes from a prospect of the sea, to subjects allied to 
the most interesting of all the various classes of our sub- 
lime emotions; — from the ceaseless succession of waves 
which break on the beach, to the fleeting generations of 
men; or, from the boundless expanse of the watery waste, 
to the infinity of Space, and the infinity of Time. 

" Hseres 
" Haeredem alterius, velut unda supervenit undam." 

'* Walk thoughtful on the silent solemn shore 
" Of that vast ocean thou must sail so soon." 

In which last lines (as well as in Shakespeare's bank and 

* Thomson. 



3 90 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay II. 

shoal of time), the complete union of the subject and of 
the simile proves, how intimately they were combined 
together in the mind of the poet. 

Before closing this long discussion concerning the 
effects produced on the imagination by the connection 
^^ between the ideas of Altitude and of IJorizontal Extent, I 
think it of great importance to remark farther, in illustra- 
tion of the same argument, that a similar association 
attaches itself to these words when employed metaphori- 
cally. A good example of this occurs in a passage of the 
Novum Organoriy where the author recommends to the 
students of particular branches of science, to rise occa- 
sionally above the level of their habitual pursuits, by 
gaining the vantage-ground of a higher philosophy. 
"=' Prospectationes fiunt a turribus aut locis prasaltis; et 
^' impossibile est, ut quis exploret remotiores interio- 
** resque scientiae alicujus partes, si stet super piano ejus- 
*' dem scientiae, neque altioris scientiae veluti speculum 
" conscendat:"- — An allusion not more logically appro- 
priate, than poetically beautiful; and which probably 
suggested to Cowley his comparison of Bacon's prophetic 
anticipations of the future progress of experimental 
philosophy, to the distant view of the promised land, 
which Moses enjoyed from the top of Mount Pisgah: 

" Did on the very border stand 

" Of the blest promisM land; 

'* And from the mountain-top of his exalted wit, 

" Saw it himself, and shewed us it." 

The metaphorical phrases of scala ascensoria et scala 
dcscensoria, which Bacon applies to the Analytical and 



Chap. Ill] ON THE SUBLIME. 391 

Synthetical Methods, shew, in a still more explicit man- 
ner, the strong impression which the natural association 
between Altitude and Horizontal extent had made on his 
imagination; inasmuch as he avails himself of it, as the 
most significant figure he could employ to illustrate, in 
the way of analogy, the advantages which he expected to 
result from his own peculiar mode of philosophizing. In- 
deed the analogy is so close and so irresistible, that it is 
scarcely possible to speak of Analysis and Synthesis, 
without making use of expressions in which it is impli- 
ed.* When, agreeably to the rules of the former, we 
rise, or ascend, from particular phenomena to general 
principles, our views become more enlarged and compre- 
hensive, but less precise and definite with respect to 
minute details. In proportion as we redescend in the 
way of synthesis, our horizon contracts; but at every step^ 
we find ourselves better enabled to observe and to ex- 
amine, with accuracy, whatever individual objects attract 
our curiosity. 

In pure Mathematics, it is to the most general and 
comprehensive methods of inquiry, that v»^e exclusively 
appropriate the title of the higher or suhlimer parts of the 
science; a figurative mode of speaking, which is rendered 
still more appropriate by two collateral circumstances; 
First, that all these methods, at the time when this epithet 
was originally applied to them, involved, in one form or 
another, the idea of Infinity; and. Secondly, that the 
earliest, as well as the most successful applications of them 
hitherto made, have been to Physical Astronomy. f 

With this exceptioUj and one or two others, for which 

* See Note (F f). t Note (G ^). 



392 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay H.- 

it is easy to account, it is remarkable, that the epithet 
universally applied to the more abstruse branches of 
knowledge is not sublime but profound. We conceive 
truth to be something analogous to a Treasure hid under 
ground; or to the Precious Metals, which are not to be 
obtained but by digging into the mine; or to Pearls 
placed at the bottom of the sea, inaccessible to all but 
such as dive into the deep. — Agreeably to this analogy, 
we speak of a profound mathematician, a profound meta- 
physician; a profound lawyer; a profound antiquary.* 

The effect of this analogy has probably been not a lit- 
tle strengthened by an idea which (although I believe it 
to be altogether unfounded) has prevailed very generally 
in all ages of the world. I allude to the vulgar opinion, 
that, while poetical genius is the immediate gift of heaven, 
confined exclusively to a fev\r of its favoured children,- 
the most recondite truths in the most abstruse sciences, 
are within the reach of all who can submit to the labour 
of the search. A philosopher of the first eminence has 
given to this prejudice the sanction of his authority, re- 
marking, that " it is genius, and not the want of it, that 
" adulterates science, and fills it with error and false 
" theory;" and that "the treasures of knowledge, although 
** commonly buried deep, may be reached by those 
" drudges who can dig with labour and patience, though 
*' they have not wings to fly."t 

* These opposite analogies are curiously combined together in the 
following sentence of Maclaurin. Speaking of Leibnitz, he remarks: — 
" We doubt not, that if a full and perfect account of all that is most 
" profound in the high geometry could have been deduced from the 
" doctrine of infinites, it might have been expected from this 
'^author." — (Fluxions, V. I. p. 45.) 

t In this criticism on Dr. Raid, I have been anticipated by his 

2 



Chap. III.] ON THE SUBLIME. 39.3 

The justness of this doctrine, I shall take another op- 
portunity to examine at some length. I have referred to 
it here, merely as an additional circumstance which may 
have influenced human fancy, in characterizing poetical 
and philosophical genius by two epithets, which in their 
literal sense express things diametrically opposite. 

It is, at the same time, extremely worthy of observa- 
tion, with respect to the metaphorical meaning of both 
epithets, that as die opposite of the Poetical Sublime is 
not the Profound, but the Low or the Grovelling; so 
the opposite of the Philosophical Profound is not what is 
raised Above the level of the earth, but the Superficial 
or the Shallow. 

learned and ingenious friend Dr. Gerard; who, after quoting the above 
passage, observes, " that the author's modesty under-rates his own 
" abilities; and, in this instance, renders his decision inaccurate."— 
Gerard on Genius, pp. 382, 3S3, 



3 D 



;94 ON THE Sublime. . [Essay ii. 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 

CONFIRMATION OF THE FOREGOING THEORY FROM THE NATURAL 

SIGNS OF SUBLIME EMOTION. RECIPROCAL INFLUENCE OF THESE 

SIGNS ON THE ASSOCIATIONS WHICH SUGGEST THEM. 

1 HE Strength and power of the associations which have 
been now under our review, (how trifling and capricious 
soever some of them may appear to be in their origin) may 
be distinctly traced in the arts of the Actor and of the 
Orator, in both of which they frequently give to what may 
be called metaphorical or figurative applications of Natu- 
ral Signs, a propriety and force which the severest taste 
must feel and acknowledge. While the tongue, for ex- 
ample, is employed in pronouncing words expressing ele- 
vation of character, the body becomes, by a sort of in- 
voluntary impulse, more erect and elevated than usual; 
the eye is raised, and assumes a look of superiority or 
command. Cicero takes notice of the same thing as a 
natural effect, produced on the Bodily Expression, by the 
contemplation of the universe; and more particularly, 
of subjects which are exalted and celestial, either in the 
literal or the metaphorical acceptation of these words. 
*' Est animorum ingeniorumque quoddam quasi pabulum, 
" consideratio contemplatioque naturae. Erigimur, eleva- 
** tiores fieri videmur; humana despicimus; cogitantesque 
" supera atque ccelestia, haec nostra ut exigua et minima 
** contemnimus." 



Chap. I v.] i QN THE SUBLIME. 3P5 

Even in speaking of any thing, whether physical or 
moral, which invites Imagination upwards, the tones of 
the voice become naturally higher; while they sink spon- 
taneously to a deep bass, when she follows a contrary 
direction. This is the more remarkable, that the analogy 
apprehended between high and low in the musical scale, 
and high and low in their literal acceptations, seems to be 
the result of circumstances which have not operated uni- 
versally among our species, in producing the same asso- 
ciation of ideas.* 

The various associations connected with Sublimity be- 
come thus incorporated, as it were, with the Language of 
nature; and, inconsequence of this incorporation, acquire 
an incalculable accession of influence over the human 
frame. We may remark this influence even on the acute 
and distinguishing judgment of Aristotle, in the admi- 
rable description of Mej/^AovI/ti;:^*^ in the third chapter of 
his Nicomachian Ethics; the whole of which description 
hinges on an analogy (suggested by a metaphorical word) 
between Greatness of Stature and Greatness of Mind. 
The same analogy is the ground- work of the account of 
Sublimity in Writing, given by Longinus; who, although 
he speaks only of the effect of sublimity on the Mind, 
plainly identifies that effect with its Bodily expression. 
** The Mind" (he observes) " is naturally elevatedhy the 
*' true Sublime, and, assuming a certain proud and erect 
^' attitude, exults and glories, as if it had itself produced 
'^ what it has only heard." The description is, I think, 
perfectly correct; and may be regarded as a demonstra- 
tive proof, that, in the complicated effect which sub- 

* See Philosophy of the Human Mind, ch. v. part ii. sect. 1. 



596 ON THE SUBLIMB. [Essay II. 

limity produces, the primary idea which has given name 
to the whole, always retains a decided predominance over 
the other ingredients. 

It seems to be the expression of Mental Elevation, 
conveyed by the '^ os sublime^'' of man, and by what Mil- 
ton calls the looks commercing with the skies, which is the 
foundation of the sublimity we ascribe to the Human 
figure. In point of actual height, it is greatly inferior to 
various tribes of other animals; but none of these have the 
whole of their bodies, both trunk and limbs, in the di- 
rection of the vertical line; coinciding with that tendency 
to rise or to mount upwards, which is symbolical of every 
species of improvement, whether intellectual or moral; 
and which typifies so forcibly to our species, the pre 
eminence of their rank and destination, among the inhabi- 
tants of this lower world. ^ 

" When I look up to the Heavens which thou hast made 
"-(says an inspired writer); to the Sun and Stars which 
" thou hast ordained; 

" Then say I, what is man that thou art mindful of him, 
" or the son of man that thou shouldst visit him! 

*' For thou hast made him but a little lower than the an- 
^' gels; thou hast crowned his head with glory and honour, 

* " Omnis homines qui sese student prsestare caeteris animalibus^: 
*■' sunima ope niti decet, ne vitam silentio transeant, veluti pecora* 
^'' quae natura prona, atque ventri obedientia, finxit." — ^Sallust, 

" Separat hoc nos 

" A greg-e mutorum, atque ideo venerabile soli 
*' Sortiti ing-enium, divinorumque capaces, 
'* Atque cxercendis capiendisque artibus apti, 
" Sensum a coclesti demissum traximus area, 
*' Cujus egent prona et ten-am spectantia."— 

Juvenal, xv, Sat. 142. 



Chap. IV. J OK THE SUBLIME. 397 

^' Thou hast put all things under hisfeet.'^^ 
Intimately connected with the sublime effect of man's 
erect form is the imposing influence of a superiority of 
stature over the mind of the multitude. — *' And when 
^' Saul stood among the people, he was higher than any 
" of them, from his shoulders and upward. — -And all the 
" people shouted and said, God save the King." 

Even in the present state of society, a superiority of 
stature is naturally accompanied with an air of authority, 
the imitation of which would be ludicrous in a person 
not possessed of the same advantages; and in a popular 
assembly, every one must have remarked the weight 
which it adds to the eloquence of a speaker, " proudly 
" eminent above the rest in shape and gesture."* 

From these observations it is easy to explain, how the 
fancy comes to estimate the intellectual and moral excel- 
lencies of individuals, in a way analogous to that in which 
we measure their stature (I mean by an ideal scale placed 
in a vertical position); and to employ the words above^ 
below, superiority, inferiority, and numberless others, to 
mark, in these very different cases, their relative advan- 
tages and disadvantages. t We have even a bias to carry 
this analogy farther; and to conceive the various orders 
of created beings, as forming a rising scale of an indefinite 
Altitude. In this manner we are naturally led to give the 
title of Sublime to such attainments and efforts, in our 
own species, as rise above the common pitch of humanity; 

* See Note (H h). 

t A trifling, but curious instance, of an analogous association may 
be remarked in the application we make of the terms High and Low 
to the Temperature of bodies, in consequence of the vertical position 
of the scale in our common Thermometers. 



598 ON THE SUBLIME. [:Es?ayTL 

and hence, the origin of an additional association, con- 
spiring with other circumstances formerly pointed put, 
as suggesting a metaphorical application of that word to 
a particular class of the higher beauties of Style, 

It appears to me probable, that it was by a vague ex- 
tension of this meaning of the Sublime, to excellence in 
general, that Longinus was led to bestow this epithet on 
Sappho's Oder^ and on some other specimens of the Ve- 
hement or Impassioned, and also of the Nervous, and of the 
Elegant, which do not seem to rise above the common 
tone of classical composition in any one quality, but in 
the finished perfection with which they are executed. I 
confess, at the same time, my own opinion is, that, with 
all his great merits as a critic and as an eloquent writer, 
his use of this word throughout his treatise can neither 
be accounted for nor rendered consistent by any philoso- 
phical theory whatever. In various places, he evidently 
employs it precisely in the same sense in which it is now 
generally understood in our language; and in which I 
have all along used it, in attempting to trace the connec- 
tion between its different and apparently arbitrary signifi- 
cations.! 

It is wonderful that Longinus was not induced, by 
his own very metaphorical description of the effects of 
sublime writing, to inquire, in the next place, to what 
causes it is owing, that sublime emotions have the ten- 
dency which he ascribes to them, to elevate i\\^ thoughts, 
and to communicate literally a momentary elevation to 
the body. At these effects he has stopped short, without 
bestowing any attention on what seems to me the most 
interesting view of the problem. 

* Note (I i);. t Note (K k). 



Chap. IV.] ON THE SUBLIME. 59$ 

Mr. Burke has adopted the description of Longinus, 
and has stated the fact with stili greater clearness and 
fuhiess. If he had followed out his ideas a little further, 
he would probably have perceived more distinctly than 
he appears to have done, that the key to some of the 
chief metaphysical difficulties supposed to be connected 
with this inquiry, is to be found in the principles which 
regulate the progressive generalizations of the im,port of 
words; and in those laws of association, which, while they 
insensibly transfer the arbitrary signs of thought from one 
subject to another, seldom fail to impart to the latter a 
power of exciting, in some degree, the same emotions 
which are the natural or the necessary effects of the 
former. 



400 ON THE SUBLIME. TEssay tt 



^ CHAPTER FIFTH. 

XNFJERENCES FROM THE FQREGOING DOCTRINES, WITH SOME AD- 
DITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 

JcjEFORE I conclude this Essay, it is proper forme to 
remind my readers, in order to prevent misapprehensions 
with respect to the foregoing observations. That my aim 
is not to investigate the principles on which the various 
elements of Sublimity give pleasure to the mind; but to 
trace the associations, in consequence of which the com- 
mon name of Sublimity has been applied to all of them. 
It is not, for instance, my aim to shew, that the whole 
effect of Horizontal Amplitude arises from its association 
with Elevation, or Height; far less, that it is this associa- 
tion alone which delights us in viewing the celestial vault, 
with all the various wonders it exhibits by day and by 
night; but merely to explain, from this principle, the- 
transference of the epithet Sublime, from one modifica- 
tion of space to all the others. In like manner, I have ab- 
stained altogether from giving any opinion on the very 
curious question concerning the pleasure arising from cer- 
tain modifications of Terror; because it did not appear to 
me to have any immediate connection with the train of 
my argument. It is sufficient for my purpose, if I have 
succeeded in accounting for the place which the Terrible, 
when properly modified, is generally allowed to occupy 

2 



6hap. v.] ON THE SUBLIME. 401 

among the constituents, or at least among the natural ad- 
juncts of the Sublime. 

Although I have attempted to shew, at some length, 
that there is a specific pleasure connected with the simple 
idea of Sublimity or Elevation, I am far from thinking, 
that the impressions produced by such adjuncts as Eter- 
nity or Power, or even by the physical adjuncts of Hori- 
zontal Extent and of Depth, are wholly resolvable into 
their association with this common and central concep- 
tion. I own, however, I am of opinion, that, in most 
cases, the pleasure attached to the conception of literal 
sublimity^ identified, as it comes to be, with those re- 
ligious impressions which are inseparable from the human 
mind, is one of the chief ingredients in the complicated 
emotion; and that, in every case, it either palpably or 
latently contributes to the effect. 

From this constant or very general connection, too, 
which these different ingredients have with each other, as 
well as with the central idea of Elevation, they must 
necessarily both lend and borrow much accessory inSu- 
ence over the mind. The primary effect of Elevation it- 
self cannot fail to be astonishingly increased by its asso- 
ciation with such interesting and awful ideas as Immen- 
sity, Eternity, Infinite Power, and Infinite Wisdom; 
blended as they are in our conceptions with that still sub- 
limer attribute of God, which encourages us to look up 
to him as the Father of AIL On the other hand, to all of 
these attributes. Elevation imparts, in its turn, a common 
character and a common epithet. 

Supposing, therefore, the foregoing conclusions to be 
admitted as just, a wide field of speculation lies open td 

3E 



402 ON THE SUBLIME. ' [Essay H. 

future inquirers. To some of these, I flatter myself, the 
hints which I have suggested may be useful, if not in 
conducting them into the right path, at least in diverting 
them from the vain attempt to detect a common quality 
in the metaphysical essence of things, which derive their 
common name only from the tie of Habitual Association. 
In confirmation of what I have just stated concerning 
the primary or central idea of Elevation, it may be far- 
ther remarked, that when we are anxious to communicate 
the highest possible character of Sublimity to any thing 
we are describing, we generally contrive, somehow or 
other, either directly, or by means of some strong and 
obvious association, to introduce the image of the Hea- 
vens, or of the Clouds; or, in other words, of Sublimity 
literally so called. The idea of Eloquence is unquestion- 
ably sublime in itself, being a source of the proudest and 
noblest species of Power which the mind of one man 
can exercise over those of others: but how wonderfully 
is its sublimity increased when connected with the image 
of Thunder; as when we speak of the Thunder of De- 
mosthenes! ** Demosthenis non tarn vibrarent fulmina, 
" nisi numeris contorta ferrentur." — Milton has fully 
availed himself of both these associations, in describing 
the orators of the Greek republics: 

" Resistless eloquence 
*' Wielded at will the fierce democracy; 
" Shook th' arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, 
" To Macedon, and Artaxerxes* throne." 

In Collins's ode to Fear, the happy use of a single 
word identifies at once the Physical with the Moral Sub- 
lime, and concentrates the effects of their united force. 



eiap. v.] ON THE SUBLIME. 403 

" Tho' gentle pity claim her mingled part, 
" Yet all the thunders of the scene are thine!" 

The same word adds not a little to the effect of one 
of the sublimest descriptions in the book of Job. ** Hast 
** thou given the horse strength; hast thou clothed his 
'' neck with thunder?"* 

In the concluding stanza of one of Gray's odes, if the 
bard, after his apostrophe to Edward, had been repre= 
sented as falling on his sword, or as drowning himself in 
a pool at the summit of the rock, the Moral Sublime, so 
far as it arises from his heroical determination " to con- 
quer and to die," would not have been in the least dimi- 
nished; but how different from the complicated emotion 
produced by the images of altitude; of depth; of an impe- 
tuous and foaming iiood; of darkness; and of eternity; all 
of which are crowded into the two last lines: 

" He spoke— and headlong from the mountain's height 
** Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night." 

Among the Grecian sages, Plato has been always more 
peculiarly characterized by the epithet Sublime; and in- 
deed, on various accounts, it is strongly and happily de- 
scriptive of the feelings inspired by the genius of that 
author; by the lofty mysticism of his philosophy; and 
even by the remote origin of the theological fables which 
are said to have descended to him from Orpheus. The 
following passage paints the impressions of a German 
scholar,! when he first met with the Indigitamenta or 

* Note (L 1). 

t Eschenbach. — I am indebted for this quotation toDr. Akenside's 
notes subjoined to his Hymn to the Naiads, 



404 ON THE SUBLIME. ^Essay H 

Orphic Hymns, during an accidental visit to Leipsic; and 
the scenery which he has employed to embellish his pic*-' 
ture, is worthy of the imagination of Plato himself. The 
skill with which he has called in to his aid the darkness 
and silence and awfulness of midnight, may be compared 
to some of the finest touches of our master- poetb; but 
what I wish, at present, chiefly to remark, is the effect of 
Altitude and of the Starry Firmament in exalting our 
conceptions of those religious mysteries of the fabulous 
ages, which had so powerfully awakened the enthusiasm 
of the writer. — ** Incredibile dictu quo me sacro horrore 
" afflaverint indigitamenta ista deorum: nam et tempus 
" ad illorum lectionem eligere cogebar, quod vel solum 
" horrorem incutere animo potest, nocturnum; cum enim 
*• totam diem consumserim in contemplando urbis splen- 
^* dore, et in adeundis, quibus scatet urbs ilia, viris doc- 
" tis, sola nox restabat, quam Orpheo consecrare potui. 
" In abyssum quendam mysteriorum venerandse antiqui- 
" tatis descendere videbar, quotiescunque silente mundq, 
" solis vigilantibus astris et luna, iA.iKocvy}(pdr^g istos hym- 
" nos ad manus sumpsi." 

It is curious, how very nearly the imagination of Mil- 
ton, in alluding to the same topics, has pursued the same 
track: 

*' Or let my lamp at midnight hour 
"Be seen in some high lonely tow'r, 
" Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, 
*' With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere 
« The spirit of Plato, to unfold 
" What worlds, or what vast regions hold 
" Th' immortal mind that hath forsook 
" Her mansion in this fleshly nook: 



CUap. v.] ON THE SUBLIME. 405 

" And of those demons that are found 
*' In fire, air, flood or under ground, 
" W hose power hath a true consent 
" With planet, or with element."* 

If these observations be just, the question which has 
been so often agitated with respect to the comparative 
eifects of the Physical and Moral Sublime, must appear 
entirely nugatory; their general result leading to this con- 
clusion, that all the qualities, which we refer to both, unite 
in forming one and the same group of associations. The ideas 
thus associated, may be conceived to bear some distant 
analogy, in their mutual communications with each other, 
and in their common communication with that great foun- 
tain of sublime emotion in which they all centre, to the 
system of circulation in the animal frame; — or, perhaps^ 
in this point ofview^ the associated elements of Sublimity 
may be still more aptly compared to the different jars 
composing an Electrical Battery; each of which is prepa- 
red to contribute, at one and the same moment, its pro- 
portional share to the joint explosion. 

In the following well-known illustration of the superi- 
ority of the Moral above the Physical Sublime, it is re- 
markable, that while the author exemplifies the latter only 
by the magnitude and momentum of dead masses, and 
by the immensity of space considered in general, he not 
only bestows on the former the interest of a historical pain- 
ting, exhibiting the majestic and commanding expression 
of a Roman Form, but lends it the adventitious aid of 
an allusion, in which the imagination is carried up to 

* The doctrine of the soul's preexistence is ascribed by Plato 
himself to Orpheus, 



406 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay H. 

Jupiter armed with his bolt. In fact, it is not the two 
diiFerent kinds of sublimity which he has contrasted with 
each other, but a few of the constituents of the Physical 
Sublime which he has compared, in point of elFect with 
the powers of the Physical and Moral Sublime combined 
together in their joint operation: 

" Look then abroad thro' nature, to the range 

"Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres 

" Wheeling unshaken thro* the void immense; 

** And speak, O manl does this capacious scene 

" With half that kindling majesty dilate 

** Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose 

" Refulgent from the Stroke of Csesar's fate, 

" Amid the crowd of Patriots, and his arm 

^< Aloft extending like eternal Jove 

** When guilt brings down the thunder, caird aloui^^ 

^« On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, 

" And bade the father of his country, hail! 

"For lo! the tyrant prostrate in the dust, 

" And Rome again is free." 

I shall close this essay, with hinting very slightly, that 
how nearly soever allied to Literal Sublimity are all the 
various kinds of the Metaphorical Sublime, it is by no 
means an infallible rule, for the attainment of the latter, 
to soar at once into the clouds; far less, to string together 
words and images expressive of what is elevated or lofty. 
I mention this, because it is a common mistake among 
juvenile writers; and a mistake into which they are not 
unnaturally betrayed, by the language consecrated to that 
group of associations which I have been endeavouring to 
illustrate.^* The employment of phrases expressive of 
mere elevation, and unaccompanied with any display of 

* Diun vitat humum? nubes et inania captat. 



€bap. V. j ON THE SUBLIME. 407 

genius, good sense, or skill, produces one of the most 
absurd species of the false sublime; that which is properly 
expressed by the words bombast and fustian. To the 
faults of this inflated style, Longinus applies the metapho- 
rical title of meteors^* sl word strongly signiiicant of the 
impression which they produce on minds, in which the 
power of taste has not been duly cultivated. In this res- 
pect, he seems to have conceived the false Sublime as 
bearing the same relation to the true, which Pope has so 
well described, in contrasting false with true Wit: 

" Bright as a blaze, but in a moment gone; — 
" True Wit is evei lasting like the Sun." 

To avoid all risk of any imputation of this sort, writers 
of taste find it, in most cases, expedient, in the hackneyed 
and worn out state of our traditional imagery, when they 
wish to produce an emotion of Sublimity, to touch on 
some of its less familiar adjuncts, or on some of the as- 
sociated ideas which follow in their train; rather than to 
dwell on the idea of Literal Sublimity, or on any of its 
more common-place concomitants. f An example of this 

* ^^7C ^"^^^^ uXXu f4,ir iio^x.— 'Sect. 3. 

t Among these, thunder and lightning are favourite resources 
■with all writers whose taste inclines them to the bombast: 

" Up from Rhyme's poppied vale, and ride the storm 
"That thunders in blank verse." 

Such is the exordium of a poem, by an author not destitute cf ge- 
nius (Aaron Hill), who lived in habits of intimacy with Pope, Thom- 
son, and Bolingbroke. On the other hand, in proportion to the diffi- 
culty of the task, is the effect produced, when the most obvious ad- 
juncts of sublimity are skilfully and happily presented in new and 
unexpected combinations, Collins furnishes an instance of this in a 



408 ON THE SUBLIME. [Essay y. 

occurs in Bailly's description of an Astronomical Obser- 
ver, preparing himself to enter on his nightly task, when 
other mortals are retiring to rest. The elevation of the 
spectacle above him, which forms the most prominent 
feature in a passage formerly quoted from Ovid's Fasti, 
and which undoubtedly contributes more than any thing 
else to impart a Sublime Character to the Astronomer's 
situation and employment, is studiously kept out of view, 
while our attention is drawn to secondary and less obvi- 
ous circumstances, which derive the principal part of their 
effect from the sublimity of that accompaniment which it 
is left to fancy to supply; — " to the prospect of a midnight 
" solitude; — to the silent lapse of time, interrupted only 
" by the beats of the Astronomical Clock; — to the motion- 
" less posture of the Observer, (his eye attached to the 
" Telescope, his ear intent upon the vibrations of the 
" Pendulum, his whole soul riveted to the fleeting in- 
" stant which is never to return); — to the mathematical 
" regularity of the celestial movements, inviting the Ima- 
'' gination to follow them through their Stupendous Cy- 
" cles; — and to the triumph of Human Reason in render- 
" ing even the Heavens subservient, to complete the 
" dominion of Man over the Earth and the Ocean." — I 
have attempted to bring together, from a very imperfect 
recollection, a few of the principal traits of this noble pic- 
ture. For the rest I must refer to the very eloquent work 
from which they are borrowed; — recommending to my 

line quoted above; and Campbell a noble one, in a couplet, descrip- 
tive merely of the altitude of a mountain. 

'•Where Andes, giant of the western star, 

"With meieor-standard to the winds unfurl'd, 

" Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world." 

2 



Chap, v.] ON THE SUBLIME. 409 

readers, if they should have the curiosity to consult the 
original, to observe (as a fiirdier confirmation of the fore- 
going speculations) the elevation of style which the author 
maintains through the whole of his narrative; an elevation 
naturally inspired by the Sublimity of his subject; and 
which would have appeared wholly out of place, in tra- 
cing the origin and progress of any other branch of physi- 
cal science, involved to the same degree in the technical 
mysteries of numbers and of diagrams.^ 

* Note (M m). 



3F 



ESSAY THIRD 



ON TASTE. 



CHAPTER FIRST. 

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON OUR ACQUIRED POWERS OF JUDGMENTo 
APPLICATION OF THESE TO THE SUBJECT OF THIS ESSAY. 

IN treating, on a former occasion, of the faculty of At- 
tention, I endeavoured to illustrate those intellectual pro- 
cesses, which, by often passing through the mind, come 
at length to be carried on with a rapidity that eludes all 
our efforts to remark it; giving to many of our judgments, 
which are really the result of thought and reflection, the 
appearance of instantaneous and intuitive perceptions. 
The most remarkable instance of such processes which 
the history of the human understanding affords, occurs 
in what are commonly called the acquired perceptions of 
sight; the theory of which has engaged the curiosity of 
many philosophers since the time of Berkeley, and seems 
to be now pretty generally understood. The other cases 
which I allude to, appear to me to be extremely analo- 
gous to these acquired perceptions, and to be explicable 
on the same general principles. The most material differ- 



Chap. 1. J ON TASTE. 411 

ence consists in this, that the acquired perceptions of 
sight are common to the whole human race; the common 
necessities of our nature forcing every man to cultivate, 
from early infancy, the habits by which they are formed; 
whereas the greater part of our other acquired judgments, 
being the result of habits connected with particular pro- 
fessions, or pursuits, are peculiar to certain classes of in- 
dividuals. 

' Next to the acquired perceptions of sight, may be 
ranked, in point of rapidity, those processes of thought 
which pass through the mind, in the familiar operations 
of reading and of writing. In the former operation, the 
meaning of what we read seems to be seized at once with 
the instantaneousness of a perception. In the latter, as 
the train of our ideas proceeds, we find these ideas re- 
corded upon paper, by an almost spontaneous movement 
of the hand; — a movement which has no more tendency 
to distract our attention, than the function of respiration, 
or the action of the heart. It is the familiarity alone of 
such phenomena, that prevents the generality of men 
from reflecting on them with the wonder which they ex- 
cite in the mind of the philosopher; and which will be 
found always to rise higher, in proportion to the accuracy 
of the analysis to which he subjects them. 

But it is not as a subject of wonder only, that these 
phenomena ought to be regarded. The practical lesson 
which they suggest is of the highest importance; and is 
calculated to inspire us with new confidence and vigour, 
in the cultivation of whatever intellectual habits our situa- 
tion in life may render it useful for us to possess. Such 
was the inference which was long ago drawn from them 



412 ON TASTE. [Essay III. 

by Polybius, with a spirit of philosophical generalization, 
which is not often to be met with in ancient historians. 

" It would be easy" (says this most judicious writer) 
** to shew by instances, that many things which appear, 
'* in the beginning, to be not only difficult but absolutely 
** impracticable, are, in the course of time, and by con- 
*' tinned use, accomplished with the greatest ease. Among 
" numberless instances, the art of reading may be men- 
" tioned as one of the clearest and most convincing 
" proofs of this remark. Take a man who has never 
" learned to read, but is otherwise a man of sense; set a 
*' child before him who has learned, and order him to 
*' read a passage in a book. It is certain that this man 
" will scarcely be able to persuade himself, that the child, 
''as he reads, must consider distinctly. First, the form of 
"all the letters; in the Next place, their power; and 
*' Thirdly, their connection, one with another. For each 
" of these things requires a certain portion of time. 
" When he hears him, therefore, read four or live lines 
" together, without any hesitation, and in a breath, he 
" will find it very difficult to believe that the child never 
" saw the book before. But if to the reading some ges- 
" ture also should be added; if the child should attend to 
" all the stops, and observe all the breathings, rough and 
" smooth, it will be absolutely impossible to convince 
" the man that this is true. From hence, therefore, we 
" may learn, never to be deterred from any useful pursuit 
" by the seeming difficulties that attend it; but to endea- 
" vour rather to surmount these difficulties by practice 
" and habit."* 

* Hampton's Translation. — The above extract forms part of a very- 
interesting discussion concerning the use of an ancient Telegraph, 



qhap. I.j ON TASTE, 413 

A rapidity somewhat approaching to that which is ex- 
empiified in reading and writing, has frequently been ac- 
quired by those whose attention has been early and con- 
stantly directed to arithmetical computations. The quick- 
ness of that glance with which they are able to tell, at once, 
the sum resulting from the addition of long columns of 
figures, is incredible to those who have not witnessed it; 
and is not easily explicable by those who have. 

It is to an acquired rapidity of judgment, resembling 
what is exhibited in the preceding instances, that I am 
hiclined to ascribe a remarkable circumstance in the in- 
tellectual endowments of Sir Isaac Newton, which that 
great man (if we may credit Whiston), seems to have 
thought connected with some original peculiarity of 
genius: — I allude to his intuitive perception of various 
mathematical conclusions, by no means obvious to ordi- 
nary understandings. As an example of this, a well- 
known property of the Ellipse is mentioned;^ of which 
(jthough certainly by no means self-evident) Newton is 
said to have told his friend Mr. Cotes, that he saw at 
once the truth, without the intermediation of any process 
of reasoning whatsoever. For an explanation of the fact, 
according to my idea of it, I must refer my readers to 
some observations which I have stated in the Philosophy 
of the Human Mind, At present I shall only add, as 
another circumstance which may occasionally mislead a 
mathematician in estimating the quickness of his own 
perceptions, That, after having once ascertained the con- 

* That the parallelogram, formed by the tangents passing throuo^h 
the vertices of any two of its conjugate diameters, is always of the 
same magnitude. 



414 ON TASTE. [Essay IIL 

nection between two propositions by a process of reason- 
ing, and fixed this connection in the memory, the one 
proposition will, in future, suggest the other as its neces- 
sary and immediate consequence. In this manner, an ex- 
perienced mathematician proceeds, as it were, by leaps, 
from one truth to another; and may sometimes mistake, 
for an intuitive judgment, a conclusion deduced from a 
long process of thought, now obliterated from the mind. 

Another instance of extraordinary rapidity of thought 
occurs in individuals who are daily conversant with me- 
chanical inventions. Where a person, possessed of equal 
intellectual ability, would find himself bewildered and 
lost among the details of a machine, the practised me- 
chanician comprehends, in an instant, all the relations and 
dependencies of the different parts. We are apt to ascribe 
this quickness to a difference of natural capacity; but it 
is, in reality, chiefly, if not entirely, the effect of Habit 
in familiarizing the mind to artificial combinations of cir- 
cumstances; in the same manner in which the general 
physical laws, which are obvious to the senses of all men, 
insensibly adapt to themselves the order of their ideas, 
and render a correspondent set of Habits apparently a 
Second Nature. Hence it is, that, in viewing a complica- 
ted machine, the experienced engineer finds himself at 
home (if I may use a familiar, but very significant phrase): 
while, on the same occasion, a person of different pur- 
suits, feels as if transported into a new world. 

The quickness and variety of intellectual combination, 
exemplified in every sentence uttered by an extempore 
speaker, is the result of analogous habits: — And where 
such a talent includes, not merely a fluency of correct 



Chap. I.J ON TASTE. 415 

and eloquent expression, but a perfect command of what- 
ever powers he may possess, whether of argument, of 
persuasion, of fancy, or of wit, it furnishes unquestion- 
ably the most splendid of all the proofs that can be pro- 
duced, of the astonishing capacities of human genius. 
■ — But on this topic (which I have often destined for the 
subject of a separate Essay) I forbear to enlarge at pre- 
sent. 

Similar observations to these might be extended to all 
the various applications of the understanding. Not that 
I would insinuate, with Helvetius, that in point of quick- 
ness, or of any other mental quality, the whole of our 
species stand originally on the same level. All that I 
would be understood to assert amounts to this, that 
wherever we see the intellectual faculties displayed on 
particular subjects, with a celerity far surpassing what 
we are accustomed to remark in ordinary life; instead of 
forming any rash inference concerning the inequalities of 
genius in different individuals, we shall, in general, judge 
more safely, by considering the fact in question, merely 
as an illustration of those habits of observation and of 
study, to which some peculiarity of inclination has pre- 
disposed, or some peculiarity of situation has trained the 
mind.^ 

* A classical author has elegantly conveyed the same maxim, by 
the order in which he has arranged the qualities enumerated in the 
following sentence: " Vincebat omnes cura, vigilantia, patientia, cal- 
" liditate, et celeritate ingeniiy The last of the catalogue he plainly 
considered as only the result of the habits imposed by the former. 

Montaigne had probably an idea somewhat similar to this, when 
he remarked, (in speaking of the game of chess) — "La precellence 
" rare et au dessus du commun messied a un homme d'honneur en 
*' chose fri vole." A marked and unrivalled preeminence in such accom- 



416 ON TASTE. [Essay III. 

To exemplify this conclusion, I can think of no better 
instance, than that military eyem the survey of a country, 
which, in some men, appears almost in the form of a 
Sixth Sense. The French writers allude forcibly to the 
rapidity of its perceptions, by the phrase coup d^oeil, 
which they employ to express it. *' It is a talent (says 
" Guibert, in his Essay on Tactics) which may be im- 
" proved, but which is not to be acquired by practice. It 
" is an intuitive faculty, and the gift of Nature; a gift 
" which she bestows only on a few favourites in the course 
" of an age." The same author, however, elsewhere quali- 
fies these very strong assertions, by remarking, that the 
principal means by which a military man acquires it, is 
daily practice in his youth; constantly keeping in view its 
culture and improvement, not only when actually employ- 
ed in the field, but while amusing himself with a journey 
or with a hunting expedition, in times of peace. — In con- 
firmation of this, he refers to the studies and exercises by 
which Philopcemen (who has been always peculiarly cele- 
brated for this talent) prepared himself for the duties of 
his profession; and certainly no example could have been 
referred to, fitter to illustrate the comment, or more di- 
rectly in opposition to the general maxim. The account 
given of these studies, by Livy, is so circumstantial and 

plishmenls he seems to have considered, as, at once, evidence of a 
more than ordinary degree of industry and perseverance, directed 
to an object of little comparative value, and as symptomatic of an 
undue desire to display advantages over others, which would cease 
to attract wonder, if the secret were discovered of the time and 
labour sacrificed to their acquisition. 

The weakness alluded to by Montaigne is, in a more peculiar 
manner, characteristical of those who have been trained up, from 
childhood, in the habits and prejudices connected with elevated rank, 

2 



Chap. I.J ON TASTE. 417 

interesting, that I shall make no apology for transcribing 
it at length; more especially, as it affords a moral lesson, 
equally applicable to all the various pursuits of mankind. 

*' Erat autem Philopoemen prsecipue in ducendo agmine 
** locisque capiendis solertise atqueusus; nee belli tantum 
** temporibus, sed etiam in pace, ad id maxime animum 
** exercuerat. Ubi iter quopiam faceret, et ad difficilem 
" transitu saltum venisset, contemplatus ab omni parte 
" loci naiuram, quum solus erat, secum ipse agitabat ani- 
" mo; quum comites haberet, ab iis quaerebat, si hostis 
'' eo loco apparuisset, quid si a fronte, quid si ab latere 
" hoc aut illo, quid si a tergo adoriretur, capiendum con- 
** silii foret? Posse instructos recta acie, posse inconditum 
" agmen, et tantummodo aptum viaj, occurrere. Quern 
** locum ipse capturus esset, cogitando aut qusrendo, 
" exsequebatur; aut quot armatis, aut quo genere armo- 
** rum usurus: quo impedimenta, quo sarcinas, quo tur- 
** bam inermem rejiceret: quanto ea aut quali prsesidia 
*' custodiret; et utrum pergere qua csepisset ire via, an 
** ea qua venisset repetere melius esset: castris quoque 
** quem locum caperet, quantum munimento amplectere- 
** tur loci, qua opportuna aquatio, qua pabuii ligno- 
*^ rumque copia esset; qua postero die castra movendi 
** tutum maxime iter, quae forma agminis foret.— His 
" curis cogitationibusque" (the historian adds) '* ita ab 
** ineunte aetate animum agitaverat, ut nulla ei nova in tali 
*^ re cogitatio esset." 

The assertion of Guibert, which led me to introduce 
the foregoing quotation, may perhaps appear to some too 
extravagant to merit any notice in the present state of 
science; but it is not more than a century ago, since the 

3 G 



1 



418 ON TASTE, [Essay m. 

common ideas, even of speculative men, concerning the 
talent to which it relates, were as vague and erroneous 
as they are at present, with respect to the general theory 
of our intellectual habits. Accordingly, we find that Fo- 
lard, in his essay on the coup d'^ceil militaire, labours to 
correct the prejudices of those who considered a military 
eye as a gift of nature, as strenuously as Mr. Burke, Sir 
J. Reynolds, Dr. Gerard, and Mr. Alison have combat- 
ed, in our own times, the prevailing doctrines which class 
Taste among the simple and original faculties which be- 
long to our species.* 

An accurate examination and analysis of our various 
acquired powers of judgment and intellectual exertion, 
as they are exemplified in the different walks of life, would, 
if I am not mistaken, open some prospects of the mind, 
equally new and interesting. At present, however, I pro- 
pose to confine myself to the power of Taste; partly on 
account of its close connection with the train of think- 
ing which I have pursued in the two preceding Essays; 
and partly of its extensive influence, in a cultivated soci- 
ety, both on the happiness of individuals, and on the gen= 
eral state of manners. My speculations concerning some 
other powers of the understanding, which I consider as 
entirely analogous in their origin, will find a place in the 
sequel of my work on the Human Mind; if I should live 
to execute that part of my plan, which relates to the va- 
rieties of genius, and of intellectual character. 

It was with a reference to the Power which I am now 
to examine, and to the doctrine with respect to it, which 

* See Note (N n). 



Chap. I.] ON TASTE. ' 419 

I wish at present to establish, that I was led, many years 
ago, (in treating of those rapid processes of thougljt, 
which it is sometimes of importance to bring to light by 
patient investigation) to take notice of the peculiar diffi- 
culty of arresting and detecting our fleeting ideas, in cases 
where they lead to any interesting conclusion, or excite 
any pleasant emotion. 

The fact seems to be (as I have observed on the same 
occasion) that " the mind, when once it has felt the plea- 
*' sure, has little inclination to retrace the steps by which 
" it arrived at it." It is owing to this, that Taste has been 
so generally ranked among our original faculties; and that 
so little attention has hitherto been given to the process 
by which it is formed. Dr. Gerard and Mr. Alison, in- 
deed, have analysed, with great ingenuity and success, 
the most important elements which^ enter into its compo- 
sition, as it exists in a well-informed and cultivated mind; 
and some very valuable observations on the same subject 
may be collected from Montesquieu, Voltaire, andD'Al- 
embert: but it did not fall under the design of any of these 
writers to trace the growth of Taste from its first seeds in 
the constitution of our nature; or to illustrate the analogy 
which it exhibits, in some of the intellectual processes 
connected with it, to what takes place in various other 
acquired endowments of the understanding. It is in this 
point of view, that I propose to consider it in this Es- 
say; — a point of view, in which I am sensible the subject 
by no means presents the same pleasing and inviting as- 
pect, as when examined in its connection with the rules of 
philosophical criticism; but in which it is reasonable to 
expect, that it may afford some new illustrations of the the- 



420 ON TASTE, [Essay IIL- 

ory of the human mind. The two inquiries, it is obvious, 
are widely different from each other; resembling some- 
what, in their mutual relation, that which exists between 
Berkeley's analysis of the process by which children learn 
to judge of distances and magnitudes, and the researches 
of the Optician concerning the defects to which vision is 
liable, and the means by which art is enabled to enlarge 
the sphere of its perceptions. 

Different, however, as these inquiries are in their aim, 
they may perhaps be found to reflect light on each other, 
in the course of our progress; and, indeed, I should dis- 
trust the justness of my own opinions, were they to lead 
me to any conclusions materially different from those 
which have been sanctioned by so many and so high au- 
thorities. 



Chap.II.J , ON TASTE. 421 



CHAPTER SECOND. 

GRADUAL PROGRESS BY WHICH TASTE IS FORMED. 

1 HAVE already said, that notwithstanding the attempts 
which a few philosophers have made to ascertain the na- 
ture of Taste, the prevailing notions concerning it are 
far from being correct or definite. Of this, no doubt can 
be entertained by those who have observed the manner 
in which it is classed by some of the latest writers on 
the human mind, in their analysis of our intellectual fa- 
culties; or who recollect the definitions given of it, in our 
most popular books of criticism. It is sufficient for me to 
mention that of Dr. Blair, according to which its charac- 
teristical quality is said to consist in " a power of receiv- 
" ing pleasure from the beauties of nature and of art." 
From the following lines, too, it would appear that the 
idea of it entertained by Akenside was nearly the same: 

« What then is Taste, but these internal powers, 
" Active and strong, Siud feelingly alive 
" To each fine impulse?" 

It is in consequence of this gift that we are supposed 
to be susceptible of the pleasures resulting from a poem, 
a picture, a landscape, a well-proportioned building, a 



422 ON TASTE. fEssay IIL 

regular set of features; and it is to those individuals who 
possess it, that Nature is understood to have confined 
exclusively the rightof pronouncing judgment in the fine 
arts, and even on the beauties of her own productions. 

If these ideas be just, it evidently follows, that the de- 
gree of our taste is proportioned to the degree of pleasure 
we are fitted to receive from its appropriate objects. The 
fact, however, is certainly different. Many whose taste is 
indisputably good, contemplate with little interest what 
they acknowledge to be beautiful; while others, in whom 
the slightest pretension to taste would be justly treated 
with ridicule, are affected, on the same occasion, with 
rapture and enthusiasm. Nor are the words Taste and 
Sensibility by any means conceived to be synonymous in 
the common apprehensions of mankind. On the contrary, 
a more than ordinary share of the latter quality is apt to 
be regarded as pretty strong evidence of some deficiency 
in the former. 

That Taste does not consist in sensibility alone, appears 
farther from this, that it is susceptible of improvement 
from culture, in a higher degree, perhaps, than any other 
power of the mind; whereas the acuteness of all our feel- 
ings is diminished by a repetition of the impression. — 
The truth of this last remark will be fully established in 
another part of my work, where I shall have occasion to 
contrast the opposite effects of habit on our passive im- 
pressions and on our active principles. 

These general observations are sufficient to shew, that 
the definition of Taste, formerly quoted, is at least incom- 
plete; and that diis power must necessarily include other 
elements in its composition. 



Ghap. U.] ON TASTE. 423 

In order to ascertain what these elements are, the first 
step seems to be, to examine that particular class of ob- 
jects with which taste is conversant. In this part of our 
inquiry, the conclusions to which we have been led by 
the foregoing speculations, will, I hope, furnish some use- 
ful principles. 

From the train of thought which I pursued in a former 
Essay, it appeared, that, even in those objects of taste 
which are presented to the mind, by the sense of Seeing 
alone, an indefinite variety of circumstances, of very dif- 
ferent kinds, may conspire in producing that agreeable 
effect, to the cause of which we give the name of Beauty: — 
colours, forms, motion, proportion, fitness, symmetry, 
variety, utility, with all the modifications of which they 
are susceptible; — together with the numberless charms 
attached to moral expression, or arising from associations 
established by custom, between the material world and 
our complicated frame. It appeared farther, that in such 
instances, the pleasing emotion (heightened, as it fre- 
quently is, by the concomitant pleasures of Sound) con- 
tinues still, as flir as our consciousness can judge of it, to 
be simple and uncompounded, and that all the different 
sources from which it proceeds are naturally united, and 
identified in our conceptions, with the organic impressions 
on the eye or on the ear.* 

* Voltaire furnishes an apposite illustration of this remark, in his 
description of the opera at Paris: 

*' II faut se rendre a ce palais maglque, 
" Ou les beaux vers, la danse, la musique, 
*' L'art de charmer les yeux par les couleurs; 
J* L'art plus heureux de seduire les ccEurs, 
** De cent plaisirs font un plaisir unique." 

Aken- 



424 O^ TASTE. [Essay IIL 

it is scarcely necessary for me to remark, that it is 
not by reasoning a priori, that we can hope to make any 
progress in ascertaining and separating the respective ef- 
fects of the various ingredients which may be thus blen- 
ded in the composition of Beauty. In analysing these, we 
must proceed on the same general principles by which 
we are guided in investigating the physical and chemical 
properties of material substances; that is, we must have 
recourse to a series of observations and experiments on 
beautiful objects of various kinds; attending diligently to 
the agreeable or the disagreeable effects we experience, in 
the case of these diversified combinations. The conclusions 
we thus form, may, it is obvious, enable us afterwards to 
recompound the same elements, according to our own fan- 
cy, so as to diversify or to increase the pleasure produced; 
while they furnish an agreeable exercise to the intellectual 

Akenside has remarked this disposition of the mind, to identify 
the sources of the secondary or accessory pleasures it enjoys, with 
those perceptions of seeing and hearing which form the physical 
bania (if I may use the expression) of our idea of the Beautiful. 
The examples he has selected are equally familiar and striking: 

" So, while We taste the fragrance of the rose, 

" Glov/s not lier blush the fairer? w)iile we view, 

" Amid the noon-tide walk, a limpid rill 

" Gush thro' the trickling herbage, to the thirst 

" Of summer yielding the delicious draught 

" Of cool refreshment; o'er tlie mossy brink 

" Shines not the surface clearer, and the waves 

** Wilh sweeter music murmur as they How?" 

Another illustration of the same thing may be collected from the 
wonderful cficct on the estimate we form of the beauty of a particu- 
lar landscape, by the agreeable or disagreeable temperature of the 
atmosphere at the moment we see it. How very different seems 
the aspect of the same scene, according as the wind happens to blow 
from the East, or from the WestI 

2 



Chap. II.] ON TASTE. 425 

powers, in tracing the beauties, both of nature and of art, 
to their general laws. 

In all these experiments and observations, it is worth 
while to add, the result is judged of by attending to our 
own feelings; as, in our researches concerning heat^ we 
appeal to the thermometer. By habits of this kind, there- 
fore, it is reasonable to expect that we may acquire a 
power of remarking those slighter impressions, whether 
pleasant or painful, which are overlooked by ordinary ob- 
servers; in the same manner as the touch of a blind man 
appears to improve, in consequence of the peculiar atten- 
tion which he is led to bestow on the perceptions of the 
hand. Our sensibility to beauty does not, in this way, 
become really more exquisite and delightful than before; 
but, by attracting our notice in a greater degree, it is 
rendered a nicer and more delicate instrument for assist- 
ing the judgment in its estimate of facts. 

Nor is it only in analysing the pleasing ingredients 
which enter into the composition of beautiful objects, that 
observations and experiments are necessary to those who 
wish to study the principles of Beauty, with a view to 
their practical applications. Whether their aim may be to 
produce new combinations of their own, or to pronounce 
on the merits and defects of those executed by others, it 
is of essential importance, that they should be able to 
separate what is pleasing from what obstructs the agree- 
able effect. Independently of experience, however, the 
most exquisite sensibility, seconded by the most acute 
intellect, cannot lead to a single conclusion concerning the 
particular circumstances from which the pleasure or un- 
easines.^ arises. In proportion, indeed, to the degree of 

3H 



426 ON TASTfi. [Essay 111, 

the observer's sensibility, he will be delighted with the 
former and offended with the latter; but till he is able to 
draw the line distinctly between them, his sensibility will 
afford no lights of which he can avail himself in future, 
either as an artist or as a judge. It is in this distinguish- 
ing or discriminating perception, that the power denoted 
by the word Taste seems to me chiefly to consist. 

The fact is perfectly analogous in that bodilj/ sense from 
which this mental power derives its name. A dealer in 
wines is able, in any of the common articles of his trade, 
to detect the least ingredient which does not properly 
enter into the composition; and, in pronouncing it to be 
good or bad, can fix at once on the specific qualities 
which please or offend. It is not on the sensibility of his 
organ that this power depends. Some degree of sensibility 
is undoubtedly necessary to enable him to receive any 
sensation at all; but the degree of his distinguishing 
power is by no means proportioned to the degree of his 
sensibility. At the same time, it is manifestly this distin- 
guishing power alone, which renders his judgment in 
wine of any use to himself in his purchases, or of any 
value to those whose gratification is the object of his art. 

Mr. Hume, in his Essay on the Standard of Taste, has 
approached nearly to this view of the subject, in the ap- 
plication which he makes to it, of a story in Don Quixote: 
And, although I can by no means assent to the general 
tram of reasoning which that essay contains, I cannot 
help availing myself of the support, which, on this funda- 
mental point, my conclusions may receive from their 
coincidence with those of so profound a writer; as well 
a^ of the very happy illustration which he has employed 
in its statement. 



Chap. UJ ON TASTE. 427 

^* It is with good reason," says Sancho to the squire 
with the great nose, " that I pretend to have a judgment 
** in wine. This is a quality hereditary in our family. 
" Two of my kinsmen were called to give their opinion 
" of a hogshead which was supposed to be excellent, 
" being old and of a good vintage. One of them tastes it; 
" considers it; and after mature reflection pronounces the 
" wine to be good, were it not for a small taste of leather 
** which he perceived in it. The other, after using the 
*' same precautions, gives also his verdict in favour of the 
" wine; but with the reserve of a taste of iron, which he 
" could easily distinguish. You cannot imagine how they 
** were both ridiculed for their judgment. But wholaugh- 
*' ed in the end? On emptying the hogshead, there was 
" found at the bottom an old key, with a leathern thong 
"tied to it." 

Another circumstance, remarkably characteristical of 
intellectual Taste, is the instantaneousness with which its 
decisions appear, in most instances, to be formed. In thivS 
respect, likewise, it resembles the external sense after 
which it is named; and indeed the analogy between the 
two powers is, in various points, so complete, as suffi- 
ciently to account for an application of the same expres- 
sions to both; and even to justify those writers who have 
attempted to illustrate the theory of the former, by an 
examination of the more obvious and familiar percep» 
tions of the latter. 

It is somewhat curious, that Voltaire should have been 
so strongly impressed with this analogy, as to conclude, 
that it must have presented itself universally to the hu* 
man understanding, in all ages of the world. '* The feel- 



428 ON TASTE. [Essay IIL 

" ing" (he observes) " by which we distinguish beauties 
** and defects in the arts, is prompt in its discernment, 
" and anticipates reflection, like the sensations of the 
*^ tongue and palate. Both kinds of Taste, too, enjoy, with 
" a voluptuous satisfaction, what is good; and reject what 
** is bad, with an emotion of disgust. Accordingly," (he 
adds) ** this metaphorical application of the word taste ^ 
" is common to all known languages."* 

It is scarcely necessary for me to remark, that the meta- 
phor here mentioned by Voltaire, is entirely of modern 
origin. Petronius, indeed, as Dr. Beattie has observed, 
seems to have employed sapor in this figurative sense; 
but the use he has made of that word is so peculiar to 
himself, that it has been urged as a presumption in favour 
of the opinion of those critics who think, that the book 
which passes under his name is, at least in part, the com» 
position of a later period. f 

Although, however, in the ancient languages, the word 
Taste was certainly not employed in that metaphorical 
acceptation which has now become so familiar to the ear, 
it is evident that the analogy which has led to the meta- 
phor did not entirely escape the ancient critics. Quincti- 
lian, in particular, speaking of this very power, observes, 
*' That it is not to be communicated by instruction any 
** more than the senses of taste or of smell; "f and with 
respect to some of its objects, he tells us, that '' they are 

* Encyclop. art. Gout. 

t The passage in question is this: " Sermonem babes non publici 
" mfiori.s^'^Y. c. (commentante et interprete Gesnero) non placen- 
tcm vulgo, sed sapientibus. Ad sensmn communem^ et intelligmtiam 
rcfcrtur. 

\ Non magis arte traditur quam gustus aut odor. 



Chap. II. J .. ON TASTF4. 429 

*^ perceived by a latent judgment of the mind, resembling 
**the decision of the palate." "Quod sentitur latente 
*' judicio, velut palato^ After having perceived the ana- 
logy so distinctly, it is somewhat surprising, that the very 
convenient metaphor which it seems so naturally to sug- 
gest, should not occur in any of their writings. 

A passage, coinciding still more explicitly with some 
of tl'ic foregoing ideas, occurs in the Thesetetus of Plato, 
" There is no question" (says Socrates in this Dialogue) 
" concerning that which is agreeable to each person, but 
" concerning what w^ill, in time to come, be agreeable, of 
" which all men are not equally judges. — You and the 
" cook may judge of a dish on the table equally well; but, 
" while the dish is making, the cook can better foretel 
" what will ensue from this or that manner of composing 
" it."* How exactly does this coincide with diat remark- 
able expression which Lord Chatham applied to the Taste 
displayed in landscape-gardening, when he spoke of its 
prophetic eye? 

The metaphorical use made of the word Taste in the 
languages of modern Europe, is perfectly analogous to 
various other expressions transferred to the Mind from 
the external senses. Such, for example, is the word Sa- 
gacity, borrowed from the sense of smelling; the words 
Foresight, Intuition, and many others, borrowed from the 
sense of seeing; Acuteness and Penetration, borrowed 
from touch. The use made by the French, of the word 
tact^ is a circumstance still more directly in point; indeed 
so much so, that the definition given of it by some of 
their best authors, may be applied very nearly to Taste 

*PIat. Op. Tom. i. p. 178. Edit. Stephan, 



430 ON TASTE, £!EsMy III. 

in its figurative acceptation. ** The word tact^' (says Rou- 
baud) " is now, in general, employed to express a de- 
" cision of the mind, prompt, subtle, and just; a decision 
" which seems to anticipate the slow processes of reflec- 
" tion and reasoning, and to proceed from a sort of in- 
*' stinctive suggestion, conducting us instantaneously and 
** unerringly to the truth." 

The chief difference in the meaning of these two words 
seems to me to consist in this, — that Taste presupposes 
a certain degree of original susceptibility, and a certain 
degree of relish, stronger or weaker, for the beauties of 
nature; whereas the word tact is appropriated to things in 
which the power of judging is wholly acquired; as, in 
distinguishing the hands of different masters in painting, 
and in the other decisions concerning the merits of artists 
which fall under the province of the connoisseur. It is ap- 
plied also to a quick perception of those delicate shades 
in character and manners, which are objects of study to 
the man of the world.* In this last sense, the English 
proverbial expression o{ feeling one'^s way^ seems to sup- 
pose such a power as the French denote by the word tact; 
.and has probably been suggested by some similar asso- 
ciation. 

In these metaphorical applications of the word tact^ the 
allusion is plainly made to the more delicate perceptions 
of touch; such, for instance, as those which, to a blind 
man, supply the place of sight — in a manner somewhat 
analogous to that in which a nice tact supersedes, upon 
the subjects with which it is conversant, the exercise of 
reasoning. Perhaps, too, the analogy may have been 

* Note (O o). 



Ghap. 11] ON TASTE. - 43 1 

Strengthened by the astonishing perceptions which, in 
some of the insect tribes, seem to enlarge the sphere of 
this sense, far beyond its ordinary limits. 

" The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine, 

" Feels at each thread, and lives along the line." 

The two circumstances which I have chiefly enlarged 
upon, in the foregoing observations on the principle of 
Taste, are. First, its power of analytical discrimination or 
discernment in the examination of its appropriate objects; 
and Secondly, the promptitude with which its decisions 
are commonly pronounced. The process by which these 
characteristical qualities of taste are gradually formed, 
may be easily conceived from some remarks which I have 
stated in the Philosophy of the Human Mind, when treat- 
ing " of the influence of casual associations on our specu- 
'* lative conclusions." 

** As the connections among physical events" (I have 
there observed) " are discovered to us by experience 
** alone, it is evident that, when we see a phenomenon pre- 
^' ceded by a number of circumstances, it is impossible 
** for us to determine, by any reasoning a prior iy which 
** of these circumstances are to be regarded as the con- 
" St ant y and which as the accidental antecedents of the 
" eflfect. If, in the course of our experience, the same 
" combination of circumstances is always exhibited to 
*' us without any alteration, and is invariably followed by 
" the same result, we must for ever remain ignorant, 
" whether this result be connected with the whole com- 
" bination, or with one or more of the circumstances 
'* combined: and therefore, if we are anxious, upon any 



432 ON taste; [Essay III. 

" occasion, to produce a similar effect, the only rule that 
'' we can follow with perfect security, is, to imitate, in 
" every particular circumstance, the combination which 
" we have seen. It is only where we have opportunity of 
*' separating such circumstances from each other; of com- 
" bining them variously together, and of observing the 
'' effects which result from these different experiments, 
" that we can ascertain with precision, the general laws 
'* of nature, and strip physical causes of their accidental 
" and unessential concomitants." 

This view of the process by which the general laws of 
the material world are investigated, I have endeavoured 
to illustrate, in the same Section of my book, by com- 
paring it with the natural progress of the healing art, 
from the superstitious ceremonies employed among sav- 
age tribes, to that simplicity of practice which distin- 
guishes an enlightened and philosophical physician. 

In the Section which immediately follows, I have ob- 
served, that the substance of the foregoing quotation is 
strictly applicable to the process, by whicji the principle 
of Taste is formed in the mind of an individual. " That 
" certain objects are fitted to give pleasure, and others 
*' disgust, to the mind, we know from experience alone; 
" and it is impossible for us, by any reasoning a priori^ 
'' to explain how the pleasure or the pain is produced. la 
" the works df nature, we find, in many instances, the 
*' elements of beauty involved among circumstances, 
*' which are cither indifferent, or which obstruct the 
*' general effect: and it is only by a train of experiments 
*' that we can separate these circumstances from the rest, 
" and ascertain with what particular qualities the pleasing 

2 



Chap. II.] ON TASTE, t 435 

** effect is connected. Accordingly, the inexperienced 
" artist, when he copies nature, will copy her servilely, 
^' that he may be certain of securing the pleasing effect; 
" and the beauties of his performances will be encum- 
*' bered with a number of superfluous or of disagreeable 
** concomitants. Experience and observation alone can 
*' enable him to make this discrimination: to exhibit the 
^'principles of beauty pure and unadulterated, and to 
** form a creation of his own, more faultless than ever 
*'fell under the examination of his senses." 

" This analogy" (I have added) *' between the natural 
*^* progress of taste, and the natural progress of physical 
'' knowledge, proceeds on the supposition, that, as in the 
'' material world there are general facts, beyond which 
'' philosophy is unable to proceed; so, in the constitution 
'' of man, there is an inexplicable adaptation of the mind 
" to the objects with which his faculties are conversant; 
" in consequence of which, these objects are fitted to pro- 
*' duce agreeable or disagreeable emotions. In both cases, 
^' reasoning may be employed with propriety to refer par^ 
^' ticular phenomena to general principles; but in both 
'* cases, we must at last arrive at principles of which no 
^* account can be given, but that such is the will of our 
'-' Maker." 

Notwithstanding, however, the strong analogy between 
the two cases, there are some important circumstances in 
which they differ from each other. One of these was 
already hinted at, when I remarked, in a former part of 
this discussion, that as, in our experimental researches 
concerning the laws of matter, the ultimate appeal is 
always made to our external senses, so, in our experi- 

3 1 



454 ON TASTE. [Essay UI. 

mental researches concerning the principles of beauty, 
the ultimate appeal is always made to our own pleasant 
or unpleasant emotions. In conducting these last experi- 
ments, we cannot, it is evident, avail ourselves of any 
thing analogous to the instrumental aids which the me- 
chanical art's have furnished to our bodily organs; and 
are somewhat in the same situation in which the chemist 
would be placed, if he had nothing to appeal to in his 
estimates of Heat, but the test of his own sensations. 
The only expedient we can have recourse to for supplying 
this defect is to repeat our experiments, under every pos- 
sible variation of circumstances by which the state and 
temper of our minds are likely to be affected; and to com- 
pare the general result with the experience of others, 
whose peculiar habits and associations are the most dif- 
ferent from our own. 

On the other hand, it is of great importance to observe, 
that if the circumstance just remarked lays us under some 
inconvenience in our researches concerning the princi- 
ples of Beauty, we possess, in conducting these, the sin- 
gular advantage of always carrying about with us the 
materials of our experiments. In the infancy of Taste, 
indeed, the first step is to compare object with object; — 
one scene with another scene; one picture with another 
picture; one poem with another poem: — and, at all times, 
such comparisons are pleasing and instructive. But when 
the mind has once acquired a certain familiarity with the 
beauties of Nature and of Art, much may be effected, in 
the way of experiment, by the power of Imagination 
alone. Instead of waiting to compare the scene now be- 
fore mc with another scene of the same kind, or of actu . 



Chap. 11.5 ON TASTE. 435 

ally trying the effects resulting from the various changes 
of which its parts are susceptible, I can multiply and vary 
m)^ ideal trials at will, and can anticipate from my own 
feelings, in these different cases, the improvement or the 
injury that would result from carrying diem into execu- 
tion. The fact is still more striking, when the original 
combination is furnished by Imagination herself, and 
when she compoimds and decompounds it, as fancy or 
curiosity may happen to dictate. In this last case, the ma- 
terials of our experiments, the instruments employed in 
our analysis or synthesis, and the laboratory in which the 
whole process is carried on, are ail alike intellectual. 
They all exist in the observer's mind; and are all suppli- 
ed, either immediately by the principles of his nature, or 
by these principles cultivated and assisted by superin- 
duced habits. 

The foregoing comparison is not the less just, that ex- 
perimental researches concerning the principles of Beau- 
ty are seldom or never instituted \vith the same scientific 
formality as in chemistry or physics; or, that the mind is, 
in most cases, wholly unconscious that such experiments 
have ever been made. When the curiosity is once fairly 
engaged by this particular class of objects, a series of hi- 
tellectual experiments is from that moment begun, with- 
out any guidance from the rules of philosophizing. Nor 
is this a singular fact in human nature; for it is by a pro- 
cess perfectly similar (as I remarked in a former Essay), 
that the use of language is at first acquired. It is by hear- 
ing the same word used, on a variety of different occa- 
sions, and by constant attempts to investigate some com- 
mon meaning which shall tally with them all, that a child 



436 ON TASTE. [Essay lit 

comes at last to seize, with precision, the idea which the 
word is generally employed to convey; and it is in the 
same manner that a person of mature understanding is 
forced to proceed, in d^cyphering the signification of 
particular phrases, when he studies, without the help of 
a dictionary, a language of which he possesses but a slight 
and inaccurate knowledge. There is here carried on, in 
the mind of the child, a process of natural induction, on 
the same general principles which are recommended in 
Bacon's philosophy: and such exactly do I conceive the 
process to be, by which the power of Taste acquires, in- 
sensibly, in the course of a long and varied experience, 
a perception of the general principles of Beauty. 

The account which has now been given of the habits 
of observation and comparison, by which Taste acquires 
its powers of discrimination or discernment, explains, at 
the same time, iht promptitude with which its judgments 
are commonly pronounced. As the experiments subser- 
vient to its formation are carried on entirely in the mind 
itself, they present, every moment, a ready field for the 
gratification of curiosity; and in those individuals whose 
thoughts are strongly turned to the pursuit, they fur- 
nish matter of habitual employment to the intellectual 
faculties. These experiments are, at the same time, exe- 
cuted with an ease and celerity unknown in our operations 
on Matter; insomuch, that the experiment and its result, 
seem both to be comprehended in the same instant of 
time. The process, accordingly, vanishes completely 
from our recollection; nor do we attempt to retrace it to 
ourselves in thought, fiir less to express it to others in 
ivords^ any more than wc are disposed, in our common 



Chap.II.3 ON TASTE. 437 

estimates of distance, to analyse the acquired perceptions 
of vision. 

In the experimental proceedings of Taste, another cir- 
cumstance conspires to prevent such an analysis; I mean, 
the tendency of the pleasurable effect to engross, or at least 
to distract the attention. I took notice, in the work last 
quoted, of " the peculiar difficulty of arresting and detect- 
" ing our fleeting ideas, in cases where they lead to any 
*^ interesting conclusion, or excite any pleasant emotion;" 
and I mentioned, as the obvious reason of this difficulty, 
that " the mind, when once it has enjoyed the pleasure, 
*' has little incHnation to retrace the steps by which it ar- 
'^ rived at it." I have added, in the same place, that '' this 
** last circumstance is one great cause of the difficulty at- 
" tending philosophical criticism."^ 

In order to illustrate the full import of this remark, it is 
necessary for me to observe, that when any dispute occurs 
in which Taste is concerned, the only possible way of 
bringing the parties to an agreement, is by appealing to an 
induction similar to that by which the judging powers of 
taste are insensibly formed; or by appealing to certain ac- 
knowledged principles which critics have already investi- 
gated by such an induction. Indeed it is in this way alone, 
that any general conclusions, in matters of this sort, can be 
ascertained. The difterence which has been so much insist- 
ed on by some writers, between philosophical criticism, 
and that which they have been pleased to call experimental, 
or tentative, turns entirely on the greater or less generality 
of the principles to which the appeal is made. Where the 

* Philosophy of the Pluman Mind, Chap, ii^ 



438 ON TASTE. CEssayin. 

tentative critic contents himself with an accumulation of 
parallel passages and of critical authorities, the philosopher 
appeals to the acknowledged sources of pleasure in the 
constitution of human nature. But these sources were at 
first investigated by experiment and induction, no less 
than the rules which are deduced from an examination of 
the beauties of Homer and of Virgil; or, to speak more 
correctly, it is the former alone that are ascertained by 
induction, properly so called; while the others often 
amount to little more than the statements of an empirical 
and unenlightened experience. 

A dispute somewhat analogous to this might be con- 
ceived to arise about the comparative distances of two 
different objects from a particular spot (about the dis^ 
tances, I shall suppose, of two large and spreading Oaks); 
each party insisting confidently on the evidence of his 
senses, in support of his own judgment. How is it pos- 
sible to bring them to an agreement, but by appealing to 
those very circumstances, or signs, upon which all our 
perceptions of distance proceed, even when we are the 
least aware of any exercise of thought? If the one party 
should observe, for instance, to his companion, that the 
minute parts of the tree, which the latter affirms to be 
the most remote, — that its smaller ramifications, its foli- 
age, and the texture of its bark, are seen much more dis- 
tinctly than the corresponding parts of the other; he could 
not fail in immediately convincing him of the inaccuracy 
of his estimate. In like manner, the philosophical princi- 
ples of criticism, when obtained by an extensive and 
cautious induction, may be fairly appealed to in questions 
of taste; although Taste itself, considered as a power of 



Chap. 11.3 ON TASTE. 439 

the mind, must, in every individual, be the result of his 
own personal experience; no less than the acquired powers 
of perception by which his eye estimates the distances 
and magnitudes of objects. In this point of view, there- 
fore, we may apply literally to intellectual taste, the as- 
sertion formerly quoted from Quinctilian: *' Non magis 
" arte traditur quam gustus aut odor." 

I must not conclude this branch of my subject without 
doing justice to some authors who appear to have enter- 
tained perfectly just and correct ideas concerning the na- 
ture of Taste, as an acquired principle^ although none of 
them, as far as I know, has at all examined the process 
by which it is generated. The first author I shall quote is 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, whose sagacity often seizes happily 
on the truth, without the formality of logical deduction. 
" The real substance" (he observes) " of what goes under 
** the name of taste, is fixed and established in the nature 
** of things. There are certain and regular causes by 
" which the imagination and the passions of men are 
** affected; and the knowledge of these causes is acquired 
*' by a laborious and diligent investigation of nature, and 
" by the same slow progress, as wisdom or knowledge of 
" every kind, however instantaneous its operations may 
*^* appear, when thus acquired." 

Mr. Burke has stated still more explicitly his dissent 
from the opinion, that '' taste is a separate faculty of the 
" mind, and distinct from the judgment and imagination; 
** a species of instinct, by which we are struck naturally, 
" and at the first glance, without any previous reasoning, 
** with the excellencies, or the defects of a composition." 
— " So far" (he continues) " as the imagination and the 



440 <^N TASl'E [Essay III. 

« passions are concerned, I believe it true, that the reason 

* is little consulted; but where disposition, where deco- 
' rum, where congruity, are concerned, in short, wher- 

* ever the best taste differs from the worst, I am convin- 
' ced that the understanding operates, and nothing else; 

* and its operation is in reality far from being always 

* sudden, or, when it is sudden, it is often far from being 

* right. Men of the best taste, by consideration, come 
' frequently to change those early and precipitate judg- 
' ments, which the mind, from its aversion to neutrality 

* and doubt, loves to form on the spot. It is known that 

* the taste (whatever it is) is improved exactly as we im- 
' prove our judgment, by extending our knowledge, by 
^ a steady attention to our object, and by frequent exer- 
' cise. They who have not taken these methods, if their 
' taste decides quickly, it is always uncertainly; and their 

* quickness is owing to their presumption and rashness, 
' and not any hidden irradiation that in a moment dispels 

* all darkness from their minds. But they who have cul- 
' tivated that species of knowledge which makes the 

* object of taste, by degrees, and habitually, attain not 
' only a soundness, but a readiness of judgment, as men 
' do by the same methods on all other occasions. At first 
' they are obliged to spell, but at last they read with ease 
' and with celerity; but this celerity of its operation is no 
' proof that the taste is a distinct faculty. Nobody, I be- 
' licve, has attended the course of a discussion, which 
' turned upon matter within the sphere of mere naked 
' reason, but must have observed the extreme readiness 

* with which the whole process of the argument is carried 
' on, the grounds discovered, the objections raised and 



Chap. Ug ON TASTE. 441 

" answered, and the conclusions drawn from premises, 
** with a quickness altogether as great as the taste can be 
*^ supposed to work with; and yet where nothing but plain 
*' reason either is, or can be suspected to operate. To 
*' multiply principles for every different appearance is use- 
" less, and unphilosophical too, in a high degree." 

The only other passage T shall add to these quotations 
is from Mr. Hughes, who, almost a century ago, describ- 
ed the nature and genesis of taste, with admirable good 
sense, and conciseness, in the following terms: ** What we 
" call Taste, is a kind of extempore judgment; it is a set- 
*' tied habit of distinguishing, without staying to attend to 
" rules or ratiocination, and arises from long use and ex- 
" perience.^ 



I intend to resume, on some future occasion, the sub- 
ject of this Chapter, and to illustrate that progress of Taste 
from rudeness to refinement, which accompanies the ad- 
vancement of social civilization. In this respect its history 
will be found to be somewhat analogous to that of human 
reason; the taste of each successive age being formed on 
the study of more perfect models than that of the age be- 
fore it; and leaving, in its turn, to after times a more ele= 
vated ground- work, on which they may raise their own 
superstructure. 

This traditionary Taste (imbibed in early life, partly 
from the received rules of critics, and partly from the 
study of approved models of excellence) is all that the 
bulk of men aspire to, and perhaps all that they are quali- 

3K 



442 f ON TASTE. ' Cl^ssay lU. 

fied to acquire. But it is the province of a leading mind to 
outstrip its contemporaries, by instituting new experi- 
ments for its own improvement; and, in proportion as the 
observation and experience of the race are enlarged, the 
means are facilitated of accomplishing such combinations 
with success, by the multiplication of those selected ma- 
terials out of which they are to be formed. 

In individuals of this description. Taste includes Ge- 
nius as one of its elements; as Genius, in any one of the 
fine arts, necessarily implies a certain portion of Taste* 
In both cases, precepts and models, although of inesti- 

mabiC value, leave much to be done by an inventive im- 

/ 
aguiation. 

In the mind of a man who feels and judges for himself, 
a large proportion of the rules which guide his decisions 
exist only in his own understanding. Many of them he 
probably never thought of clothing with language even 
to himself; and some of them would certainly, if he should 
attempt to embody them in words, elude all his efforts t® 
convey their import to others. 

" What we call genius^'' (says Reynolds) ** begins, not 
" where rules, abstractedly taken, end; but where known, 
" vulgar, and trite rules have no longer any place." — 
" It is true, these refined principles cannot be always 
" made palpable, like the more gross rules of art; yet it 
" does not follow, but that the mind may be put in such 
** a train, that it shall perceive, by a kind of scientific 
" sense, that propriety, which words can but very feebly 
" suggest." 

All this will be found to apply literally to original or 
inventive Taste, and to suggest matter for very curious 



Qhap. U.J ON TASTE. 443 

and useful reflection. — But some other views of this power 
appear to me to form a more natural sequel to the fore- 
going observations; and to these accordingly, I shall con» 
fine myself at present, in the farther prosecution of th^ 
subject of this Essay, 



444 ON TASTE. [Essay lit. 



CHAPTER THIRD. 

DIFFERENT MODIFICATIONS OF TASTE.— DISTINCTION BETWEEN 
TASTE, AND THE NATURAL SENSIBILITY TO BEAUTY. 

X ROM the account formerly given of the origin and 
progress of our notions with respect to the Beautiful, it 
appeared, that the circumstances which please in objects 
of Taste, are of two very different kinds. First, those 
which derive their effect from the organical adaptation of 
the human frame to the external universe; and Secondly, 
those which please in consequence of associations formed 
gradually by experience. Among the various particulars 
belonging to this seco?2d cld.ss (a class which comprehends 
by far the most important elements which, in such an age 
as ours, enter into the composition of the beautiful) a 
very obvious distinction may be made. (1.) Such beau- 
ties as owe their existence to associations resulting ne> 
cessarily from the common circumstances of the human 
race; and therefore extending their influence, more or 
less, to all mankind. Examples of these universal associ- 
ations occur in the uniformity of language (remarked in 
the two preceding Essays) among various civilized na- 
tions, in speaking of Beauty and of Sublimity. (2.) Beau- 
ties which have no merit but what depends on custom 



Chap. III.] ON TASTE. 445 

and fashion; or on certain peculiarities in the situation 
and history of the individual. Of the two last descrip- 
tions of beauty, the former, it is evident, agree in one 
very essential respect, with the organical beauties first 
mentioned. Both of them have their source in the princi- 
ples of Human Nature (comprehending, under this phrasCy 
not only the natural constitution, but the natural condition 
of man); and, accordingly, they both fall under tlie con- 
sideration of that sort of criticism which forms a branch 
of the philosophy of the human mind. The associations 
on which they are founded, have equally a claim to a 
place among the elements of the Beautiful; nor can any 
theory of Beauty be admitted as sufficiently comprehen- 
sive, in which either the one or the other is overlooked*. 
As an illustration of this, I shall mention only Mn 
Burke's theory, which excludes from the idea of Beauty 
all considerations of proportion, fitness, and utility. In or- 
der to justify such exclusions as these, it surely is not 
sufficient to shew, that the qualities just mentioned cannot 
be brought under a particular and arbitrary definition. 
The question for the philosopher to consider is, what has 
led mankind, in ancient as well as in modern times, to 
class together these, and a variety of other qualities, un- 
derone common name; and frequently to employ the name 
of some one of them to comprehend the whole? A pas- 
sage formerly quoted from Cicero affiDrds an instance in 
point: *' Itaque eorum ipsorum, quae adspectu seniiuntur, 
** nullum aliud animal pulchritudinem, venustatem, con- 
** venientiam partium sentit; quam similitudinem natura 
** ratioque ab oculis ad animum transferens, multo etiam 
** magis pulchritudinem, constantiam, ordinem in con- 



446 CMSr TASTE. [Essay IIL 

*' siliis factisque conservandum putat," Sec. &c. — ** For- 
''^ mam quidem ipsani, Marce fili, et tanquam faciem Ho- 
" nesti vides; quae, si oculis cerneretur, mirabiles amores 
" (ut ait Plato) excitaret sapientise." 

In favour of Mr. Burke's opinion, it must indeed be 
admitted, that those systems are completely erroneous, 
which would resolve the whole of Beauty into any one of 
the three qualities which he excludes from the idea of it, 
or even into all the three combined, without the coopera- 
tion of any thing else. But it is going, at least, as far into 
the opposite extreme, to say that none of these is entitled 
to a place among the elements which can possibly belong 
to its composition.* 

According to this view of the subject, it would be 
quite unnecessary to distinguish, in our subsequent rea- 
sonings, that species of beauty which results from the 
physical relation between our organs of perception and 
external objects, from that which depends on natural and 
universal associations; and I shall therefore apply to them 
the common appellation of Universal Beauties, in opposi- 
tion to those Arbitrary Beauties, the admiration of which 
has been confined to particular places, or to particular 
periods. 

Among the associations, however, on which these arbi- 
trary beauties depend, there are some varieties, of which 
it may be proper to take notice, before we proceed to con- 
sider the various appearances which Taste may assume 
in different minds. The following list seems to compre- 
hend those which are chiefly entitled to our attention. 

* Note (P p).. 



Chap. UI. j ON TASTE. 447 

1. Classical Associations: — Inspired by the remains of 
ancient Greece and Rome; and, of course, extending to 
all who receive the advantages of a learned education in 
every quarter of the civilized world. The authority of 
these is, in all cases, great; and, in some cases, (particu- 
larly in sculpture and in architecture) is now so conse- 
crated by established opinion, as almost to preclude all 
criticism or discussion. In poetry, also, they have added 
immensely to our natural resources, particularly by the 
beautiful system of mythology with which they are inter- 
woven; — but they have, at the same time, warped our 
Taste in various instances; and have certainly no claims 
to our servile imitation, where they happen to deviate 
from the standard of nature. In every instance where 
there is no such deviation, their authority seems justly 
entitled to the next place (but a very subordinate place) 
after those associations which belong universally to our 
species. It must not, however, be imagined, that, in any 
instance, they furnish us with principles from which there 
lies no appeal; nor should it be forgotten, that their influ- 
ence does not reach to the most numerous class of the 
people, in the most refined societies. 

2. National or local Associations. — Where these are 
not widely at variance with universal associations, they 
exert over the heart a power greater perhaps than that of 
any other associations whatsoever; and sometimes (as 
seems to have happened in the case of most French critics) 
they acquire an ascendant even over the impressions of 
Nature herself. But this influence being confined neces- 
sarily within the national pale (however ample the re- 
sources are which it furnishes for local and fugitive 



44 S ON TASTE. [Essay HT. 

Poetry), is much more likely to mislead than to guide our 
researches concerning the principles of philosophical 
criticism, 

3. Personal Associations: — Such as those which arise 
from the accidental style of natural beauty in the spot 
where we have passed our childhood and early youth; 
from the peculiarities in the features of those whom we 
have loved; and other circumstances connected with our 
own individual feelings. Of these it is necessary that every 
man, who aspires to please or to instruct others, should 
divest himself to the utmost of his power; or, at least, 
that he should guard against their undue ascendant over 
his mind, when he exercises either his Imagination or his 
Taste, in works addressed to the public. 

Under this head, I must not omit to mention the inllu- 
ence of vanity and selfishness on the judgments of some 
men, even concerning the beauties of nature; — the inter- 
est which the attachment to property creates, rendering 
them alive to every trifling recommendation belonging to 
what is their own, while it blinds them to the most pro- 
minent beauties in the property of their neighbours. Cres- 
set has seized happily this intellectual and moral weakness, 
in his charming comedy of the Mechant, But, as it is 
more connected with the study of Character, than with 
that of Philosophical Criticism, I shall not enlarge upon 
it farther at present. 

Corresponding to the distinction which I have been at- 
tempting to illustrate between Universal and Arbitrary 
Beauties, there are two different modifications of Taste; 
modifications which are not always united, (perhaps seldom 
united) in the same person. The one enables a writer or 

2 



Cbap. Ill] ON TASTE. 449 

an artist to rise superior to the times in which he lives, 
and emboldens him to trust his reputation to the suffrages 
of the human race, and of the ages which are yet to come. 
The other is the foundation of that humbler, though more 
profitable sagacity, which teaches the possessor how to 
suit his manufactures to the market; to judge before-hand 
of the reception which any new production is to meet 
with, and to regulate his exertions accordingly. The one 
must be cultivated by those habits of abstraction and 
study, which, withdrawing the thoughts from the unmean- 
ing particularities of individual perception, and the capri- 
cious drapery of conventional manners, familiarize the 
mind to the general forms of beautiful nature; or to beau- 
ties which the classical genius of antiquity has copied 
from these, and which, like these, are unfading and im- 
mortal. The proper sphere of the other is such a capital 
as London or Paris. It is there that the judges are to be 
found from whose decision it acknowledges no appeal; 
and it is in such a situation alone, that it can be cultivated 
with advantage. Dr. Johnson has well described (in a pro- 
logue spoken by Garrick, when he first opened the theatre 
at Drury-Lane) the trifling solicitudes and the ever- vary- 
ing attentions to which those are doomed, who submit thus 
to be the ministers and slaves of public folly: 

" Hard is his fate, who here, by fortune placM, 
" Must watch the wild vicissitudes of Taste; 
" With every meteor of caprice must play, 
" And catch the new-blown bubbles of the day." 

The ground- work of this last species of Taste (if it de- 
serves the name) is a certain facility of association^ ac- 

3L 



450 ON TASTE. [Essay IIL 

quired by early and constant intercourse with society; 
more particularly, with those classes of society who are 
looked up to as supreme legislators in matters of fashion; 
a habit of mind, the tendency of which is to render the 
sense of the Beautiful (as well as the sense of what is 
Right and Wrong) easily susceptible of modification 
from the contagion of example. It is a habit by no means 
inconsistent with a certain degree of original sensibility; 
nay, it requires, perhaps, some original sensibility as its 
basis: but this sensibility, in consequence of the habit 
which it has itself contributed to establish, soon becomes 
transient and useless; losing all connection with Reason 
and the Moral Principles, and alive only to such impres- 
sions as fashion recognizes and sanctions. The other spe- 
cies of Taste, founded on the study of Universal Beauty 
(and which, for the sake of distinction, I shall call Phi- 
losophical Taste) implies a sensibility, deep and perma- 
nent to those objects of affection, admiration, and reve- 
rence, which interested the youthful heart, while yet a 
stranger to the opinions and ways of the world. Its most 
distinguishing characteristics, accordingly, are strong do- 
mestic and local attachments, accompanied with that en- 
thusiastic love of Nature, Simplicity, and Truth, which, 
in every department, both of art and of science, is the 
best and surest presage of Genius. It is this sensibility 
that gives rise to the habits of attentive observation by 
which such a Taste can alone be formed; and it is this 
also that, binding and perpetuating the associations which 
such a Taste supposes, fortifies the mind against the 
fleeting caprices which the votaries of fashion watch and 
obey. 



ehapHL] ON TASTE. 451 

In the farther prosecution of this subject, as well as in 
the former part of this Essay, my observations must be 
understood as referring chiefly to that sort of Taste which 
I have now distinguished by the epithet pJiilosophicaL It 
may, at the same time, be proper to remark, that a great 
part of these observations, particularly those which I have 
already made on the process by which Taste acquires its 
discrimination and its j&romj&^i^t/^d' of perception, are appli- 
cable, with some slight alterations, to that which has for 
its object local and temporary modes, no less than to the 
other, which is acquired by the study of universal 
beauty. 

The two distinguishing characteristics of Good Taste 
(it has been justly observed by different writers) are cor- 
rectness and delicacy; the former having for its province 
the detection of Blemishes, the latter the perception of 
those more refined Beauties which cultivated minds alone 
can feel. This distinction has been illustrated (and I think 
not unhappily) by the general complexion of Swift's cri- 
ticisms contrasted with that of Addison's. — -Of that 
quality more particularly, which is properly called deli- 
cacy of taste, no better exemplifications can any where be 
found, than occur in some of the critical papers on Paradise 
Lost, published in the Spectator. — Where this intellectual 
power exists in its most perfect state, both these qualities 
are necessarily implied. 

It was remarked, in the beginning of these inquiries, 
concerning Taste, that although it presupposes a certain 
degree of sensibility, yet it is not by men whose sensibility 
js most exquisite, that it is commonly cultivated with the 



452 ON TASTE. [Essay lU. 

greatest success. One principal reason of this seems to be, 
that in such men, the pleasures which they re^^ive from 
beautiful objects, engross the attention too much to allow 
the judgment to operate coolly; and the muid is disposed 
to dwell passively on its own enjoyment, without indulging 
a speculative curiosity in analysing its sources. In all our 
perceptions, from the grossest to the most refined, the at- 
tention is directed to the effect or to the cause^ according 
to the vivacity or to the faintness of the sensation. *' If I 
" lay my hand" (says Dr. Reid) '* gently on the table, 
^* and am asked what I feel^ I naturally answer, that / 
'-'■ feel the table; if I strike it against the same object with 
^' such violence as to receive a painful sensation from the 
*' blow, I as naturally answer the same question, by say- 
" ing, that I feel pain in my hand^ A similar observation 
may be applied to the pleasures which are derived from 
objects of Taste. Where these pleasures rise to ecstasy, 
they produce a state of vague enthusiasm and rapture, 
in Avhich our reasoning faculties have little share : where 
they are more moderate and sober, they rouse the curi- 
osity, like other physical effects; and create insensibly 
those habits of observation, of comparison, and of intel- 
lectual experiment, of which I have endeavoured to shew, 
in the last Chapter, that the power of Taste is the gra- 
dual and slow result. 

In proportion, too, as the temper of the mind inclines 
to extreme sensibility, the casual associations of the in- 
dividual may be expected to be numerous and lasting; 
for nothing tends so powerfully to bind the associating 
tie, as the circumstance of its being originally formed, 
when the mind was strongly agitated by pleasure or by 



Chap. HI.] ON TASTE. 453 

pain. In recollecting any particular occurrence, whether 
prosperous or adverse, of our past lives, by which we 
were deeply affected at the moment, — how indelible do 
we find the impression left on the memory, by the most 
trifling and accidental details which distinguished the 
never-to-be-forgotten day on which it happened; and how- 
apt are similar details, if at any time they should present 
themselves in somewhat of the same combination, to in- 
spire us with gaiety or with sadness, according to the 
complexion of the event with which they are associated! 
It is in the same way, that, to a mind tremblingly alive 
to impressions of beauty, a charm is communicated to 
whatever accessories or appendages happen to invest 
any object of its admiration; accessories which are likely 
to leave a far less permanent trace in the memory of a 
more indifferent spectator. The consequence will be, that 
in a person of the former temper, the cultivation of a 
correct taste will be a much more difficult task than in 
one of the latter, and a proportionally greater attention 
will be requisite, on the part of his instructors, to confine 
his habitual studies to the most faultless models. 

Of the caprices and singularities of judgment to which 
all men are more or less liable from causes of this sort, 
but which are more peculiarly incident to men of very 
warm and lively feelings, no better illustration can be 
given than a noted fact, which Des Cartes mentions with 
respect to himself, in one of his letters. " During the 
" whole of his life," (this philosopher tells us) " he had a 
" partiality for persons who squinted;" and he adds, that 
** in his endeavour to trace the cause of a taste apparently 



454 ON TASTE. [Essay IIL 

" SO whimsical, he at last recollected, that when a boy, 
"he had been fond of a girl who had that blemish." 
" The aifection he had for this object of his first love," 
(says Malebranche) " seems to have diffused itself to all 
" others who any way resembled her." Hence the dispo- 
sition which young and susceptible minds discover so 
frequently, to copy the peculiarities in dress, pronuncia- 
tion and manner, of those they admire or are attached to; 
the agreeable impressions associated in their fancy with 
every thing which marks the individual the most strongly 
to the eye or the ear, leading them to conclude very rashly, 
that, by an imitation of circumstances which are to them- 
selves so characteristical and expressive, they cannot fail 
to secure a similar charm to their own exterior. Among 
the ancients, we are told by Plutarch, there were many 
who imitated the stuttering of Aristotle, and the wry neck 
of Alexander; nor has this strong bias of our nature es-^ 
caped the all-observant eye of Shakespeare: 

" He was indeed the glass 
" Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. 
" He had no legs that practised not his gait; 
" And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, 
" Became the accents of the valiant." 

Hence too, the effect of those writers, who unite with 
any transcendent excellencies, some affected peculiarities 
of manner or style, in misleading and corrupting the taste 
of their contemporaries. " How many great qualities" 
(says Mr. Smith) '' must that writer possess, who can 
*' thus render his very faults agreeable! After the praise 
*' of refining the taste of a nation, the highest eulogy, 



Chap. III. 1 ON TASTE. 455 

" perhaps, which can be bestowed on any author, is to 
" say that he corrupted it.'* Proceeding on the same idea, 
Dr. Johnson remarks, very justly and pertinently, that 
" if there is any writer whose genius can embellish im- 
" propriety, or whose authority can make error venerable, 
** his works are the proper objects of critical inquisition." 
— It is hardly necessary for me to add, that the business 
of the critic, in such cases is to break asunder the casual 
associations which an unreflecting admiration of genius 
has established in the public judgment; and that, in pro- 
portion to the degree of sensibility and enthusiasm which 
accompanies this admiration in the mind of any individual, 
will be the difficulty of the task which the critic has to 
perform. 

The foregoing observations seem sufficiently to shew, 
not only that a sensibility to beauty does not necessarily 
imply the power of taste; but that, in a mind where the 
degree of sensibility is extreme, the acquisition of a cor- 
rect taste is, in ordinary cases, next to impossible. Such 
a mind may indeed be conceived to have been so circum- 
stanced, as to have been conversant alone with the best 
models; or it may be so fortified by habits of philosophical 
study as to resist the influence of casual associations, even 
when it feels their force; but these cases occur so seldom, 
that the exceptions rather confirm than weaken the truth 
of the general conclusion. 

Neither is it, perhaps, in minds where sensibility forms 
the principal feature, that the utmost delicacy of taste is 
to be looked for. The more prominent beauties of the 
object are apt to engross the whole soul, and to divert the 
attention, not only from its defects, but from those nicer 



^56 ON TASTE. [Essay Ilf . 

touches, which characterize the finer shades and gradations 
of art. — On the other hand, it is a self-evident truth, that 
where there is ?io sensibility ^ there can be no taste; and that 
even where sensibility is not altogether wanting, it may 
exist in a degree so very trifling, as not to afford a suffi- 
cient inducement or motive for the cultivation of those 
habits by which taste is formed. There exists, therefore, 
a certain measure of sensibility, which at once predisposes 
the mind to the cultivation of taste, and constitutes an 
aptitude for its acquisition; such a measure of it, as ren- 
ders that class of our pleasures with which taste is con- 
versant, an interesting object of examination and study; 
while, on the other hand, it does not rise so high as to 
discourage habits of observation and analysis, or to over- 
power the judgment, by lending irresistible force to casual 
combinations. 

In the practical application, however, of this conclusion, 
it is of essential consequence to remember, that the de- 
gree of sensibility must always be estimated relatively to 
the state of those intellectual powers with which it is com- 
bined. A degree of sensibility which a man of vigorous 
understanding knows how to regulate and to controul, 
may, in a weaker mind, not only become a source of 
endless inconvenience and error, but may usurp the mas- 
tery of all its faculties. The truth of this remark is daily 
exemplified in that sort of sensibility which is affected by 
the pleasures and pains of human life; and it will be found 
to hold equally with respect to the feelings which enter 
as elementary principles into the composition of Taste. 



BJiap. IV.] ON TASTE. 457 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 

CONTINUATION OF THE SUBJECT. SPECIFIC PLEASURE CONNECTED 

WITH THE EXERCISE OF TASTE. FASTIDIOUSNESS OF TASTE.-— 

MISCELLANEOUS REMARKS ON THIS POWER. CONSIDERED IN ITS 
CONNECTION WITH CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS. 

JlSEFORE I quit this part of the subject, it is important 
for me to add, that, in proportion as taste is cultivated and 
matured, there arises a secondary pleasure peculiar to this 
acquired power; a pleasure essentially distinct from those 
primary pleasures which its appropriate objects afford. A 
man of strong sensibility, but destitute of taste, while he 
enjoys the beauties of a poem or a picture, will receive 
no positive uneasiness from the concomitant details which 
may diminish or obstruct the pleasing effect. To a person, 
on the contrary, of a cultivated taste, these will necessa- 
rily appear offensive blemishes, betraying a want of skill 
and judgment in the author; while, on the other hand, 
supposing them to have been avoided, and the genuine 
principles of beauty to have been exhibited pure and un- 
adulterated, there would have been superadded to the 
pleasures operating on his natural sensibility, the acquired 
gratification, of remarking the taste as well as genius dis- 
played in the performance. 

3M 



458 ON TASTE. [Essay III 

It is, however, in a very small number, comparatively 
speaking, of individuals, that taste is the native growth 
of the original principles and unborrowed habits of their 
own minds. In by far the greater proportion of men, what 
usurps that name, and is too frequently acknowledged as 
having a right to assume it, consists merely of a prompt 
application of certain technical rules, which pass current 
in the common circles of fashion or of literature; and 
which are adopted by the multitude, without the slightest 
examination, as incontrovertible axioms. Such, for ex- 
ample, is that mechanical and pedantic taste which is 
imbibed passively on the authority of Aristotle or of Bossu, 
and which may, in general, be distinguished by a fluent 
command of that convenient and imposing phraseology 
which is called by Sterne '' the cant of criticism." 

These technical rules, at the same time, although often 
abused, are not without their value; for, although they 
can never supply the want of natural sensibility, or inspire 
a relish for beauty in a mind insensible to it before, they 
may yet point out many of iht faults which an artist ought 
to avoid, and teach those critics how to censure, who are 
incapable of being taught how to admire. They may even 
conununicate to such a critic, some degree of that se- 
condary pleasure which was formerly mentioned as pecU" 
liar to taste; the pleasure of remarking the coincidence 
between the execution of an artist, and the established 
rules of his art; or, if he should himself aspire to be an 
artist^ they may enable him to produce what will not much 
offend, if it should fail to please. What is commonly 
called fastidiousness of taste, is an affectation chiefly ob- 
servable in persons of this description; being the natural 



ehap. IV. J ON TASTE. 459 

effect of habits of common- place criticism on an eye blind 
to the perception of the beautiful. Instances, at the same 
time, may be conceived, in which this fastidiousness is 
real; arising from an unfortunate predominance of the 
secondary pleasures and pains, peculiar to taste, over 
those primary pleasures and pains which the ol)ject is 
fitted to produce. But this, I apprehend, is a case that 
can rarely occur in a mind possessed of common sensi- 
bility; more especially, if the cultivation of taste has been 
confined to that subordinate place which belongs to it, 
among the various other pursuits to which we are led by 
the speculative and active principles of our nature. 

The result of these observations is, that the utmost to 
be expected from the rules of criticism is a technical 
correctness of taste; meaning by that phrase, a power of 
judging, how far the artist has conformed himself to the 
established and acknowledged canons of his art, without 
any perception of those nameless excellencies, which have 
hitherto eluded the grasp of verbal description. 

There is another species of Taste, (unquestionably of 
a higher order than the technical taste we have now been 
considering) which is insensibly acquired by a diligent 
and habitual study of the most approved and consecrated 
standards of excellence; and which, in pronouncing its 
critical judgments, is secretly, and often unconsciously 
guided, by an idolatrous comparison of what it sees, witk 
the works of its favourite masters. This, I think, ap- 
proaches nearly to what La Bruyere calls le Gout de Com- 
paraison. It is that kind of taste which commonly belongs 
to the connoisseur in painting; and to which something per- 
fectly analogous may be remarked in all the other fine arts. 



460 ON TASTE. [Essay 111 

A person possessed of this sort of taste, if he should 
be surpassed in the correctness of his judgment by the 
technical critic, is much more hkely to recognize the 
beauties of a new work, by their resemblance to those 
which are familiar to his memory; or, if he should himself 
attempt the task of execution, and possesses powers equal 
to the task, he may possibly, without any clear conception 
of his own merits, rival the originals he has been accus- 
tomed to admire. It was said by an ancient critic, that, in 
reading Seneca, it was impossible not to wish, that he 
had written " with the taste of another person, though 
" with his own genius;" — suo ingenio^ alieno judicio;^ — 
and we find, in fact, that many who have failed as original 
writers, have seemed to surpass themselves, when they 
attempted to imitate. Warburton has remarked, and, in 
my opinion, with some truth, that Burke himself never 
wrote so well, as when he imitated Bolingbroke. If on 
other occasions, he has soared higher than in his Findica- 
tion of Natural Society, he has certainly nowhere else (I 
speak at present merely of the style of his composition) 
sustained himself so long upon a steady wing. I do not, 
however, agree with Warburton in thinking, that this 
implied any defect in Mr. Burke's genius, connected 
with that faculty of imitation which he so eminently pos- 
sessed. The defect lay in his Taste, which, when left to 
itself, without the guidance of an acknowledged standard 
of excellence, appears not only to have been warped by 
some peculiar notions concerning the art of writing; but 
to have been too wavering and versatile, to keep his ima- 
gination and his fancy (stimulated as they were by an osr 

* Velles eum suo ingenio dixisse, alieno judicio. — Quinct. Lib. x.- 
Cap. 1. 



Chap.IV.] ON TASTE. 461 

tentation of his intellectual riches, and by an ambition of 
Asiatic ornament) under due controul. With the compo- 
sition of Bolingbroke present to his thoughts, he has 
shewn with what ease he could equal its most finished 
beauties; while, on more than one occasion, a conscious- 
ness of his own strength has led him to display his upe- 
riority, by brandishing, in his sport, still heavier weapons 
than his master was able to wield. 

To one or other of these two classes, the taste of most 
professed critics will be found to belong; and it is evident, 
that li.ey may both exist, where there is little or no sensi- 
bility to Beauty. That genuine and native Taste, the origin 
and growth of which I attempted to describe in the last 
chapter, is perhaps one of the rarest acquisitions of the 
human mind: nor will this appear surprising to those who 
consider with attention, the combination of original quali- 
ties which it implies; the accidental nature of many of the 
circumstances which must conspire to afford due oppor- 
tunities for its improvement; and the persevering habits 
of discriminating observation by which it is formed. It 
occurs, indeed, in its most perfect state, as seldom as 
originality of genius; and, when united with industry, and 
with moderate powers of execution, it will go farther, in 
such an age as the present, to secure success in the arts 
with which it is conversant, than the utmost fertility of 
invention, where the taste is unformed or perverted. 

With respect to this native or indigenous Taste, it is 
particularly worthy of observation, that it is always more 
strongly disposed to the enjoyment of Beauties^ than to 
the detection oi Bleniishes. It is, indeed, by a quick and 
lively perception of the former, accompanied with a spirit 



462 ON TASTE. fEssfty IFL 

of candour and indulgence towards the latter, that its ex» 
istence in the mind of any individual is most unequivo- 
cally marked. It is this perception which can alone evince 
that sensibility of temperament, of which a certain portion, 
although it does not of itself constitute Taste, is never- 
theless the first and most essential element in its compo- 
sition; while it evinces, at the same time, those habits of 
critical observation and cool reflection, which, allowing 
no impression, how slight soever, to pass unnoticed, seem 
to awaken a new sense of Beauty, and to create that deli- 
cacy of feeling which they only disclose. We are told of 
Saunderson, the blind mathematician, that in a series of 
Roman medals, he could distinguish by his hand the true 
from the counterfeit, with a more unerring discrimination 
than the eye of a professed Virtuoso; and we are assured 
by his biographer, Mr. Colson, that when he was present 
at the astronomical observations in the garden of his col- 
lege, he was accustomed to remark every cloud that pass- 
ed over the sun. The effect of the blindness of this extra- 
ordinary person was not surely to produce any organical 
change in his other perceptive powers. It served only to 
quicken his attention to those slighter perceptions of touch, 
which are overlooked by men to whom they convey no 
useful information. The case I conceive to be perfectly 
analogous in matters which fall under the cognizance of 
intellectual taste. Where nature has denied all sensibility 
to beauty, no study or instruction can supply the defect; 
but it may be possible, nevertheless, by awakening the 
attention to things neglected before, to develop a latent 
sensibility where none was suspected to exist. In all men, 
indeed, without exception, whether their natural sensi- 



Chap. IV.] ON TASTE. 463 

bility be strong or weak, it is by such habits of attention 
alone to the finer fecHngs of their own minds, that the 
power of taste can acquire all the delicacy of which it is 
susceptible. 

While this cultivated sensibility enlarges so widely to 
the man who possesses it the pleasures of Taste, it has a 
tendency, wherever it is gratified and delighted in a high 
degree, to avert his critical eye from blemishes and im- 
perfections; — not because he is unable to remark them, 
but because he can appreciate the merits by which they 
are redeemed, and loves to enjoy the beauties in which 
they are lost. A Taste thus awake to the Beautiful seizes 
eagerly on every touch of genius with the sympathy of 
kindred affection; and, in the secret consciousness of a con- 
genial inspiration, shares, in some measure, the triumph 
of the Artist. The faults which have escaped him, it 
views with the partiality of friendship; and willingly aban- 
dons the censorial ofiice to those who exult in the errors 
of superior minds as their appropriate and easy prey. 

Nor is this indulgent spirit towards the works of others, 
at all inconsistent with the most rigid severity in an au- 
thor towards his own. On the contrary both are the natural 
consequences of that discriminating povvcr of taste, on 
which I have already enlarged as one of its most important 
characteristics. Where men of little discernment attend 
only to general effects, confounding beauties and blem- 
ishes, flowers and weeds, in one gross and undistinguish- 
ing perception, a man of quick sensibility and cultivated 
judgment, detaches, in a moment, the one from the other; 
rejects, in imagination, whatever is offensive in the pros- 
pect, and enjoys without alloy what is fitted to please. 



464 ON TASTE. OEssay III. 

His taste, in the meantime, is refined and confirmed by 
the exercise: and, while it muhiphes the sources of his 
gratification in proportion to the latent charms v/hich it 
detects, becomes itself, as the arbiter and guide of his 
own genius, more scrupulous and inflexible than before. 

" The tragedy of Douglas" (says Gray in one of his 
letters) " has infinite faults; but there is one scene (that 
'.' between Matilda and the old Peasant,) so masterly, that 
'* it strikes me blind to all the defects of the piece." These, 
I apprehend, are the natural impressions of genuine taste 
in pronouncing on the merits of works of genuine excel- 
lence; impressions, however, which they who are con- 
scious of them have not always the candour either to in- 
dulge or to avow. — Such, also, was the feeling which 
dictated a memorable precept of La Bruyere, of which I 
will not impair the force, by attempting a translation: 
" Quand une lecture vous eleve I'esprit, et qu'elle vous 
'^ inspire des sentimens nobles etcourageux, ne cherchez 
" pas une autre regie pour juger de I'Ouvrage; il est bon, 
" et fait de main d'Ouvrier." — How different both senti- 
ments from that fastidiousness of Taste, by an affectation 
of which it is usual for little minds to court the reputa- 
tion of superior refinement!* 

In producing, however, this fastidiousness, whether 
affected or real, various moral causes, — such as jealousy, 
rivalship, personal dislike, or the spleen of conscious in- 
feriority, — may conspire with the intellectual d^itcis which 
have been mentioned: Nay, the same moral causes may 
be conceived to be so powerful in their influence, as to 
produce this unfortunate effect in spite of every intellectual 

* Note (Q q). 



Chap. IV.J ON TASTE. 465 

gift which nature and education can bestow. It is observ- 
ed by Shenstone, that *' good taste and good-nature are 
'' inseparably united;" and, although the observation is by 
no means true when thus stated as an unqualified propo- 
sition, it will be found to have a sufficient foundation in 
fact, to deserve the attention of those who have a pleasure 
in studying the varieties of human character. One thing 
is certain, that as a habitual deficiency in good humour 
is sufficient to warp the decisions of the soundest taste, so 
the taste of an individual, in proportion as it appears to be 
free from capricious biases, affiDrds a strong presumption, 
that the temper is unsuspicious, open, and generous. As 
the habits, besides, which contribute spontaneously to 
the formation of taste, all originate in the desire of intel- 
lectual gratification, this power, where it is possessed in 
an eminent degree, may be regarded as a symptom of 
that general disposition to be pleased and happy, in which 
the essence of good -nature consists. *' In those vernal 
*' seasons of the year," (says Milton, in one of the finest 
sentences of his prose- writings) " when the air is soft 
** and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against 
** nature, not to go out and see her riches, and partake of 
** her rejoicings with heaven and earth."— Such is the 
temper of mind by which, in our early years, those habits 
which form the ground- work of taste are most likely to 
be formed; and such, precisely, is the temper which, in 
our intercourse with our fellow-creatures, disposes us, 
both for their sakes and for our own, to view their actions 
and characters on the fairest side. I need scarcely add, in 
confirmation of some remarks formerly made, that the 
same temper, when transferred from the observation of 

3N 



466 ON TASTE. [Essay III 

nature to the study of the fine arts, can scarcely fail to 
incline the taste more strongly to the side of admiration 
than of censure. 

After all, however, maxims of this sort must neces- 
sarily be understood as liable to many exceptions. The 
love of nature itself, even when accompanied with that 
general benevolence towards our own species with which 
it is in youth invariably attended, is not always united 
with that good humour towards individuals, to which it 
seems so nearly allied in theory, and with which it is, in 
fact, so closely connected, in a great majority of instan- 
ces: Nay, this love of nature sometimes continues un- 
diminished in men, who, in consequence of disappoint- 
ed hopes and expectations, have contracted a decided 
tendency to misanthropy. It is not therefore surprising, 
that an enthusiastic admiration of natural beauty should 
occasionally meet in the same person, with a cold and 
splenetic taste in the fine arts; at least in instances where 
the productions of the present times are to be judged of. 
But such exceptions do not invalidate the truth of the 
general proposition, any more than of every other general 
conclusion relative to human character. Their explanation 
is to be sought for in the accidental history of individual 
minds; and, when successfully investigated, will con- 
stantly be found (supposing our results to be cautiously 
drawn from a comprehensive survey of human life) to 
lend additional evidence to the very rules which they 
seem, at first view, to contradict. 

One very obvious consideration furnishes, of itself, in 
the case now before us, a key to some apparent inconsis- 
tencies in the reflections which I have already hazarded* 



Chap. IV. J ON TASTE. 467 

In such maxims concerning Taste, as that which I have 
quoted from Shenstone, due attention is seldom paid to 
the diversified appearances it exhibits, according to the 
two very different purposes for which it may be exercis- 
ed; First, as a principle in the artist's mind, regulating and 
directing the exertions of his own genius; and Secondly, 
as a principle in the mind of the critic, who judges of the 
works produced by the genius of another. In the former 
case, where none of the moral causes by which taste is 
most liable to be warped have any room to operate, it 
cannot be denied, that it is sometimes displayed in no in- 
considerable degree (although, I believe, never in its 
highest perfection) by individuals, in whose characters 
neither good humour nor any other amiable quality is at 
all conspicuous. In the latter case, an habitual justice and 
mildness in its decisions, more particularly where works 
of contemporary genius are in question, is an infallible 
test of the absence of those selfish partialities and peevish 
jealousies, which encroach so deeply on the happiness of 
many, whom nature has distinguished by the most splen- 
did endowments; and which, wherever they are allowed 
to operate, are equally fatal to the head and to the heart. 
It is a melancholy fact with respect to artists of all 
classes; painters, poets, orators, and eloquent writers; that 
a large proportion of those who have evinced the soundest 
and the surest taste in their own productions, have yet 
appeared totally destitute of this power, when they have 
assumed the ofiice of critics. How is this to be accounted 
for, but by the influence of bad passions (unsuspected 
probably by themselves) in blinding or jaundicing their 
critical eye? In truth, it is only when the mind is perfectly 



468 ON TASXa [Essay lit. 

serene, that the decisions of taste can be relied on. In 
these nicest of all operations of the intellect, where the 
grounds of judgment are often so shadowy and compli- 
cated, the latent sources of error are numberlessj and to 
guard against them, it is necessary that no circumstance, 
however trifling, should occur, either to discompose the 
feelings, or to mislead the understanding. 

Among our English poets, who is more vigorous, cor- 
rect, and polished than Dr. Johnson, in the few poetical 
compositions which he has left? Whatever may be 
thought of his claims to originality of genius, no person 
who reads his verses can deny, that he possessed a sound 
taste in this species of composition; and yet, how wayward 
and perverse in many instances, are his decisions when 
he sits in judgment on a political adversary, or when he 
treads on the ashes of a departed rival! To myself (much 
as I admire his great and various merits, both as a critic 
and as a writer), human nature never appears in a more 
humiliating form, than when I read his Lives of the Poets; 
a performance which exhibits a more faithful, expressive, 
and curious picture of the author, than all the portraits » 
attempted by his biographers; and which, in this point of 
view, compensates fully by the moral lessons it may sug- 
gest, for the critical errors which it sanctions. The errors, 
alas! are not such as any one who has perused his imita- 
tions of Juvenal can place to the account of a bad taste; 
but such as had dieir root in weaknesses, which a noble 
mind would be still more unwilling to acknowledge. 

If these observations are well-founded, they seem to 
render it somewhat doubtful, whether, in the different arts, 
the most successful adventurers are likely to prove, in 



Chap. IV.] ON TASTE. 46^ 

matters of criticism, the safest guides; although Pope ap- 
pears to have considered the censorial authority as their 
exclusive prerogative, 

" Let such teach others, who themselves excel, 
" And censure freely who have written well." 

That the maxim is founded in good sense, as long as 
the artist confines himself to general critical precepts, or 
to the productions of other times, I do not mean at present 
to dispute; although even on this point I entertain some 
doubts. But, in estimating the merits of a contemporary 
candidate for fame, how seldom do we meet with an artist,! 
whose decisions are dictated by taste alone, without a pal- 
pable admixture of caprice or of passion; and how often 
have we, on such occasions, to lament that oracular con- 
tempt of public opinion and public feeling, which con- 
scious superiority is too apt to inspire! Other causes, be- 
sides, of a much more secret and obscure nature than 
these moral weaknesses, cooperate powerfully in produ- 
cing the same effect. Such, for example, are the biases, 
originating in casual and inexplicable associations, which, 
in powerful, but limited minds, are frequently identified 
with the characteristical stamina of genius; furnishing 
matter of wonder and of pity to others, whose intellectual 
features are less strongly marked by individual peculiari- 
ties.—" Thomson has lately published a poem called the 
*' Castle of Indolence^ in which there are some good stan- 
" zas." Who could have expected this sentence from the 
pen of Gray? In an ordinary critic, possessed of one 
hundredth part of Gray's sensibility and taste, such total 



470 ON TASTE, [Es^y Ht. 

indifFerence to the beauties of this exquisite performance, 
would be utterly impossible.* 

But I will not multiply illustrations on a topic so pecu- 
liarly ungrateful. The hints which I have already thrown 
out, are, I hope, sufficient to lead the thoughts of my 
younger readers to those practical reflections which they 
were intended to suggest. They have, indeed, but little 
originality to boast of; but they point at some sources of 
false taste, overlooked in our common systems of criti- 
cism; and which, however compatible with many of the 
rarest and most precious gifts of the understanding, are 
inconsistent with that unclouded reason, that unperverted 
sensibility, and that unconquerable candour, which mark 
a comprehensive, an upright, and an elevated mind. 

When jEschines, after his retreat to Rhodes, was, one 
day, reading aloud to some friends, the oration -nn^t cm- 
(pavou, which had occasioned his exile; and when his 
hearers were lost in wonder at the eloquence of Demos- 
thenes; — " What (said he) would you have thought, if 
'*you had heard him pronounce it?" — Such is the language 
(if I may borrow the words of Mr. Gibbon) *' in which 
" one great man should speak of another;" and which 
they who are truly great will feel a peculiar pleasure to 
employ, when the well- merited fame of an adversary is in 

* La Bruyere (according to the usual practice of writers of max- 
ims) has pushed this train of thinking to an extreme, in order to 
give more point to his apothegm. Yet there is some truth, as well 
as wit, in the following sentences: 

" Si une belle femme approuve la beaut e d*une autre femme, on 
" peut conclure qu'elle a mieux que ce qu*elle approuve. Si un 
" poete loue les vers d'un autre poete, il y a ci parier qu'ils sont 
*' mauvais et sans consequence." 



Cnap.lV.] ON TASTE. 471 

question. Nor is this magnanimity without its reward in 
the judgment of the world. Where is the individual to be 
found, who, in reading the foregoing story of i^schines, 
does not envy the feelings he enjoyed at that proud mo- 
ment of his life, far more than the palm of eloquence 
which he yielded to his enemy?^ 

Why do not men of superior talents, if they should not 
always aspire to the praise of a candour so heroic, strive 
at least, for the honour of the arts which they love, to 
conceal their ignoble jealousies from the malignity of 
those, whom incapacity and mortified pride have leagued 
together, as the covenanted foes of worth and genius? 
What a triumph has been furnished to the writers who 
delight in levelling all the proud distinctions of Humanity; 
and what a stain has been left on some of the fairest pages 
of our literary history, by the irritable passions and petty 
hostilities of Pope and of Addison! 

The complete forgetfulness of every selfish passion (so 
beautifully exemplified in the anecdote of iEschines) when 
the mind is agitated by the enthusiasm of admiration; — 
the sympathetic identification which then takes place of 
the hearer or reader with the author, was probably what 
Longinus felt, when he observed, in his account of the 
Sublime, that " it fills the mind with a glorying and sense 



* " Quo mihi melius etiam illud ab iEschine dictum vi- 

<* deri solet, qui cum propter ignominiam judicii cessisset Athenis, 
" et se Rhodum contulisset, rogatus a Rhodiis, legisse fertur ora- 
^' tionem illam egregiam, quam in Ctesiphontem contra Demosthe- 
" nem dixerat: qua perlecta, petitum est ab eo postridie, ut legeret 
" illam etiam, quae erat contra a Demosthene pro Ctesiphonte edita: 
^f quam cum suavissima et maxima voce legisset, admirantibus om- 
" nibus, Quanto, inquit, magis admiraremini, si audissetis ipsum!" — 
Cic. de Orat. Lib. III. 



472 ON TASTE. [Essaylll. 

" of inward greatness, as if it had itself conceived what it 
** has only heard." If the remark should be censured as 
out of place, when introduced into his statement of the 
characteristics of Sublimity, it must, at least, be allowed 
to be happily descriptive of that temper and frame which 
are essential to its complete enjoyment. — ** Voiia le sub- 
*' lime! Voila son veritable caractere!" is said to have 
been the exclamation of the great Conde, when Boileau 
read to him his translation of the above passage. 

Having been insensibly led into these reflections on 
some of the moral defects by which taste is liable to be 
injured, I cannot help quoting, before I close this view 
of my subject, a remark of Sir Joshua Reynolds (not al- 
together unconnected with it,) which appears to me 
equally refined and just. *' The same habit of mind" (he 
observes) ** which is acquired by our search after truth 
" in the more serious duties of life, is, in matters of taste, 
'* only transferred to the pursuit of lighter amusements. 
** The same disposition, the same desire to find something 
" steady, substantial and durable, on which the mind can 
** lean as it xuere, and rest with safety. The subject only 
" is changed. We pursue the same method in our search 
*' after the idea of beauty and perfection in each; of virtue, 
" by looking forwards beyond ourselves, to society and 
*' to the whole; of arts, by extending our views in the 
" same manner to all ages and all times." In farther illus- 
tration of the same idea he observes, '' that the real sub- 
" stance of what goes under the name of taste is fixed 
** and established in the nature of things; that there are 
" certain and regular causes by which the imagination and 
" passions of men are affected; and that the knowledge of 

2 



Ghap. IV.J ON TASTE. 473 

" these causes is acquired by a laborious and diligent in- 
'* vestigation of nature, and by the same slow process as 
^* wisdom or knowledge of every kind." — I would only 
add, (by way of limitation) that these observations apply 
rather to that quality of taste which is denoted by the words 
justness or soundness, than to its sensibility and delicacy; 
which last circumstances seem to depend, in no incon* 
siderable degree, on original temperament. The former 
is unquestionably connected very closely with the love of 
truths and with what is perhaps only the same thing under 
a different form, simplicity of character. 

If the account be just which has now been given, of 
the process by which Taste is formed, and of the various 
faculties and habits which contribute their share to its 
composition, we may reasonably expect, where it exists in 
its highest perfection, to find an understanding, discrimi- 
nating, comprehensive, and unprejudiced; united vvith a 
love of truth and of nature, and with a temper superior to 
the irritation of little passions. While it implies a spirit of 
accurate observation and of patient induction, applied to 
the most fugitive and evanescent class of our mental 
phenomena, it evinces that power of separating universal 
associations from such as are local or personal, which, 
more than any other quality of the mind, is the foundation 
of good sense, both in scientific pursuits, and in the con- 
duct of life. The intellectual efforts by which such a taste 
is formed are, in reality, much more nearly allied than is 
commonly suspected, to those which are employed in 
prosecuting tfte most important and difficult branches of 
the philosophy of the human mind. 

Nor am I inclined to think, that this conclusion will, 

30 



474 ON TASTE, [Essay III. 

on examination, appear inconsistent with fact. That 9 
palatial taste, confined to some particular art, such as mu- 
sic, painting, or even poetry, may be often found united 
with an intellect which does not rise above the common 
level, I very readily grant; although I think it questiona- 
ble, whether, in such an intellect, supposing example and 
imitation to be altogether out of the question, even a par- 
tial taste of this kind could have been originally formed. 
But the fair test of the soundness of the foregoing reason- 
ings is an instance, in which the good taste of the indivi- 
dual has been the fruit of his own exertions; and in which 
it extends, more or less, to all the arts which he has 
made the objects of his study, and which nature has not 
denied him, by some organical defect in his original con- 
stitution, a capacity of enjoying. Where a good taste has 
been thus formed, I am fully persuaded, that the infe- 
rences which I have supposed to follow with respect to 
the other intellectual powers involved in its composition, 
will be justified, in all their extent, by an appeal to ex- 
perience. 

The subject might be prosecuted much farther, by 
examining the varieties of taste in connection with the 
varieties of human character. In studying the latter, whe- 
ther our object be to seize the intellectual or the moral 
features of the mind, the former will be found to supply 
as useful and steady a light as any that we can command. 
To myself it appeals to furnish the strongest of them all; 
more particularly, where the finer and more delicate 
shades of character are in question. — But the illustration 
of this remark belongs to some speculations which I des- 
tine for a different work. 



ESSAY FOURTH. 

ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN INTELLECTUAL HA- 
BITS CONNECTED WITH THE FIRST ELEMENTS OF 
TASTE. 



CHAPTER FIRST. 

DEPENDENCE OF TASTE ON A RELISH FOR THE PLEASURES OF IMA- 
GINATION. REMARKS ON THE PREVAILING IDEA, THAT THESE 

ARE TO BE ENJOYED IN PERFECTION, IN YOUTH ALONE. 

IN what I have hitherto said with respect to Taste, I have 
considered it chiefly as the native growth of the individual 
mind to which it belongs; endeavouring to trace it to its 
first principles or seeds in our intellectual frame. In cases, 
however, where nature has not been so liberal as to ren- 
der the formation of this power possible, merely from the 
mind's own internal resources, much may be done by ju- 
dicious culture in early life; and in all cases whatever, in 
such a state of society as ours, its growth, even when 
most completely spontaneous, cannot fail to be influenced, 
in a greater or less degree, by instruction, by imitation, 
by the contagion of example, and by various other ad- 
ventitious causes. 

It is reasonable also to beliex^e, that there are number- 
less minds, in which the seeds of taste, though profusely 



476 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

sown, continue altogether dormant through life; either in 
consequence of a total want of opportunity to cultivate 
the habits by which it is to be matured, or of an attention* 
completely engrossed with other pursuits. In instances 
such as these, it is the province of education to lend her 
succour; to invigorate, by due exercise, those principles 
In which an original weakness may be suspected; and, by 
removing the obstacles which check the expansion of our 
powers in any of the directions in which nature disposes 
them to shoot, to enable her to accomplish and to perfect 
her own designs. 

To suggest practical rules for this important purpose 
would be inconsistent with the limits of a short Essay; 
and I shall, therefore, confine myself to a fewsligh- hints 
with respect to some of the more essential propositions 
on which such rules must proceed. 

Before I enter on this subject, it is necessary to pre- 
mise, that my aim is not to explain how a vitiated or false 
taste in any of the fine arts may be corrected; or in what 
manner an imperfect taste may be trained by culture to 
a state of higher refinement; but to inquire, in the case of 
an individual, whose thoughts have hitherto been totally 
engrossed with other pursuits, how far it may be possi- 
ble, by engaging his attention to a new class of pleasures, 
to bring his mind into that track of observation and study, 
by the steady pursuit of which alone (as I have already 
endeavoured to shew) the power of taste is to be gradu- 
ally and slowly formed. In prosecuting this speculation, 
I shall have a view more particularly to that species of 
Taste which has for its object the beauties of external 
nature, whether presented directly to the senses, or re- 



Chap. I.J INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &d. 477 

called to the imagination, with the modifications and 
heightenings of poetical or creative invention. Without 
some portion of this taste, while an essential blank is left 
in the circle of his most refined enjoyments, the intellec- 
tual frame of man is incomplete and mutilated; and, 
although the fact be undoubtedly the same, more or less, 
with a taste in music, in painting, in architecture and va- 
rious other arts, the difference in point of degree is so 
immense, as to render the effects unsusceptible of com- 
parison. Nor is this all. The transition from a Taste for 
the beautiful^ to that more comprehensive Taste which 
extends to all the other pleasures of which poetical fiction 
is the vehicle, is easy and infallible; and accordingly we 
shall find, as we proceed in our argument, die subject to 
which it relates swell insensibly in its dimensions, and 
branch out, on every side, into numberless ramifications. 
The hints, therefore, which I am now to suggest, limited 
as some of them may appear to be in their immediate 
scope, may, perhaps, contribute to direct into the right 
path, such of my readers as may aim at conclusions more 
general than mine. In the mean time, I must beg leave 
to remind them, that amid such an infinity of aspects, as 
the objects and the principle of taste present to our curi- 
osity, a selection of the happiest points of view is all that 
is possible; and that, in fixing upon these, I must neces- 
sarily be guided by the intimacy of that relation, which 
they seem to myself to bear to the Philosophy of the Hu- 
man Mind. 

I have observed, in a former work, that what is com- 
monly called sensibility depends, in a great measure, on 



478 ON THE CULTURE OP CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

the state of the imagination.^ In the passage to which I 
allude, my remark has a more peculiar reference to mo- 
ral sensibility^ or to what may be called, for the sake of 
distinction, the sensibility of the heart. But it will be 
found to apply also with great force (although I acknow- 
ledge, not without some limitations) to the sensibility of 
taste. In so far as the pleasures of Taste depend on asso- 
ciation; on the perception of uses or fitnesses; on sympathy 
with the enjoyments of animated beingSy or on other cir- 
cumstances of a similar nature, the remark will, I appre- 
hend, apply literally; and it only fails with respect to those 
organical pleasures (the pleasures, for example, depend- 
ing on the sensibility of the eye to colours, and of the 
ear to musical tones) over which the imagination cannot 
be supposed to have much influence. But, that these or- 
ganical pleasures, although the parent stock on which all 
our more complicated feelings of Beauty are afterwards 
grafted, as well as the means by which the various ex- 
citing causes of these feelings are united and consolida- 
ted under the same common appellation; — that these or- 
ganical pleasures, I say, form by far the most inconsider- 
able part of that general impression or effect which i& 
produced by the objects of taste on a cultivated mind, 
has, I trust, been already sufficiently shewn. 

The sensibility of taste, therefore (we may conclude) de- 
pends chiefly, in the mind of any individual, on the associ- 
ations and other intellectual processes connected with the 
objects about which taste is conversant; and, consequently, 
the only effectual means of developing this sensibility, (the 
most essential of all the elements of taste, and indeed the 

I 
* Philosophy of the Human Mind, p. 509, 3d edit. 



Chap. I.J INTELLECTUAL HABITS, kc. 470 

seminal principle of the whole) must begin with the cul- 
ture of Imagination. 

With respect to this last power, it may contribute to 
the clearness of some of the following reasonings, to pre- 
mise, that although, according to the idea of it which I 
endeavoured formerly to illustrate,* its most distinguish- 
ing characteristic is a faculty of creation, (or, to speak 
more correctly, of hivention and of new combination) 
yet, when considered in its relation to Taste, this inven- 
tive faculty is the least important ingredient in its com- 
position. All that is essentially necessary is a capacity of 
seizing, and comprehending, and presenting in a lively 
manner to one's own mind, whatever combinations are 
formed by the imagination of others. When such combi- 
nations have for their materials, nothing but what is bor- 
rowed from sensible objects, this capacity differs so little 
from what I before called Conception, f that if I had been 
to confine myself to these exclusively, I should not have 
wished for any other word to convey my meaning at pre- 
sent. As, in other parts of my writings^ however, imagi- 
nation is commonly to be understood in the most enlarg- 
ed sense, as possessing a sway over the intellectual and 
moral worlds as well as over the material, an expression 
of more comprehensive import than Conception may be 
sometimes convenient; and I shall therefore, for want of 
a better phrase, avail myself of the epithet apprehensive^ 
to distinguish that modification of imagination which 
is subservient to taste, from that inventive or creative 
imagination, which forms the chief element in poetical 



genius. 



* Philosophy of the Human Mind. t Ibid. 



480 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

Notwithstanding, however, the justness of this theore- 
tical distinction, I shall seldom, if ever, have occasion, in 
the sequel of this volume, to employ the epithets which 
I have now proposed to introduce. The transition from 
the apprehensive to the inventive operations of imagination, 
appears to me to be, in reality, much simpler and easier 
than is commonly suspected: in other words, I conceive, 
that where the mind has been early and familiarly con- 
versant with the fictions of poetry, the acquisition of that 
inventive or creative faculty which characterizes the poet, 
depends, in a great measure, on the individual himself; 
supposing that there exists no extraordinary deficiency in 
his other intellectual capacities. — In what remains, there- 
fore, of this Essay, I shall make use of the word Ima- 
gination, without any epithet whatever; premising only in 
general, that it is the apprehensive power of imagination, 
and not its inventive power, which I have solely in view, 
when I speak of its culture as an important object of edu- 
cation. 

In what manner Imagination may be encouraged and 
cherished in a mind where it had previously made little 
appearance, may be easily conceived from what was stated 
in a former Essay, with respect to the peculiar charm 
which sometimes accompanies the pleasures produced by 
its ideal combinations, when compared with the corre- 
sponding realities in nature and in human life. The eager 
curiosity of childhood, and the boundless gratification 
which it is so easy to afford it by well selected works of 
fiction, give, in fact, to education, a stronger j&wrc/ffl^(?, if 
I may use the expression, over this faculty, than what it 
possesses over any other. The attention may be thus in* 
2 



CJiai) I] INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &c. 481 

sensibly seduced from the present objects of the senses, 
and the thoughts accustomed to dwell on the past, the 
distant, or the future; and, in the same proportion in which 
this effect is in any instance accomplished, " the man''* 
(as Dr. Johnson has justly remarked) '* is exalted in the 
*' scale of intellectual being." The tale of fiction will pro- 
bably be soon laid ^side with the toys and rattles of in- 
fancy; but the habits which it has contributed to fix, and 
the powers which it has brought into a state of activity, 
will remain with the possessor, permanent and inestima- 
ble treasures, to his latest hour. To myself, this appears 
the most solid advantage to be gained from fictitious com- 
position, considered as an engine of early instruction; I 
mean, the attractions which it holds out for encouraging 
an intercourse with the authors best fitted to invigorate 
and enrich the imagination, and to quicken whatever is 
dormant in the sensibility to beauty: or, to express myself 
still more plainly, the value of the incidents seems to me 
to arise chiefly, from their tendency to entice the young 
reader into that fairy-land of poetry, where the scenes of 
romance are laid. — Nor is it to the young alone that I 
would confine these observations exclusively. Instances 
have frequently occurred of individuals, in whom the 
Power of Imagination has, at a more advanced period of 
life, been found susceptible of culture to a w^onderful 
degree. In such men, what an accession is gained to their 
most refined pleasures! What enchantments are added to 
their most ordinary perceptions! The mind awakening, as 
if from a trance, to a new existence, becomes habituated 
to the most interesting aspects of life and of nature; the 
intellectual eye is *' purged of its film;" and things the. 

3 P 



4^2 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

most familiar and unnoticed, disclose charms invisible 
before. The same objects and events which were lately- 
beheld with indifference, occupy now all the powers and 
capacities of the soul; the contrast between the present 
and the past serving only to enhance and to endear so un- 
looked-for an acquisition. What Gray has so finely said 
of the pleasures of vicissitude, conveys but a faint image 
of what is experienced by the man, who, after having lost 
in vulgar occupations and vulgar amusements, his earliest 
and most precious years, is thus introduced at last to a 
new heaven and a new earth; 

" The meanest flow'ret of the vale, 
" The simplest note that swells the gale* 
" The common sun, the air, the skies, 
" To him are op'ning Paradise.'* 

The effects of foreign travel have been often remarked, 
not only in rousing the curiosity of the traveller while 
abroad, but in correcting, after his return, whatever habits 
of inattention he had contracted to the institutions and 
manners among which he was bred. It is in a way some- 
what analogous, that our occasional excursions into the 
regions of imagination increase our interest in those 
familiar realities from which the stores of imagination are 
borrowed. We learn insensibly to view nature with the 
eye of the painter and of the poet, and to seize those 
" happy attitudes of things" which their taste at first 
selected; while, enriched with the accumulations of ages, 
and with, " the spoils of time," we unconsciously com- 
bine with what we see, all that we know and all that we 
feel; and sublime the organical beauties of the material 



Chap. 1] INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &c. 483 

world, by blending with them the inexhaustible delights 
of the heart and of the fancy. 

And here, may I be allowed to recommend, in a more 
particular manner, the pleasures of imagination to such of 
my readers, as have hitherto been wholly engrossed with 
the study of the severer sciences, or who have been hur- 
ried, at too early a period, into active and busy life? Ab- 
stracting from the tendency which a relish for these plea- 
sures obviously has to adorn the more solid acquisitions 
of the one class, and to ennoble, with liberality and light, 
the habits of the other, they may both be assured, that it 
will open to them sources of enjoyment hitherto inexpe- 
rienced, and communicate the exercise of powers of which 
they are yet unconscious. It was said, with truth, by 
Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, that he who was ignorant 
of the arithmetical art was but half a man; — un homme a 
demi. With how much greater force may a similar ex- 
pression be applied to him^ who carries to his grave, the 
neglected and unprofitable seeds of faculties, which it 
depended on himself to have reared to maturity, and of 
which the fruits bring accessions to human happine;ss, 
more precious than all the gratifications which power or 
wealth can command! I speak not of the laborious orders 
of society, to whom this class of pleasures must, from 
their condition, be, in a great measure, necessarily denied; 
but of men destined for the higher and more independent 
walks of life, who are too often led, by an ignorance of 
their own possible attainments, to exhaust all their toil on 
one little field of study, while they leave, in a state of na- 
ture, by far the most valuable portion of the intellectual 
inheritance to which they were born. If these speculations 



484 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

of mine concerning the powers of the understanding, 
possess any peculiar or characteristical merit, it arises, in 
my own opinion, chiefly from their tendency (by affording 
the student a general knowledge of the treasures which 
lie within himself, and of the means by which he may 
convert them to his use and pleasure) to develop, on a 
greater scale than has been commonly attempted, all the 
various capacities of the mind. It is by such a plan of 
study alone, that the intellectual character can attain, in 
every part, its fair and just proportions; and we may rest 
assured, that wherever these are distorted from their pro- 
per shape or dimensions, the dignity of the man is so far 
lowered, and his happiness impaired. It was with these 
views, chiefly, that I was led to attempt, in another publi- 
cation, as comprehensive a survey of the principles of hu- 
man nature as my own acquirements enabled me, how- 
ever imperfectly, to execute; and it is with the same views, 
that, in the execution of my design, I have occasionally 
stopped short at what appeared to myself the most inter- 
esting and commanding stations, in order to open to the 
companions of my journey, such vistas on either hand, 
as might afford them a glimpse of the fertility and beauty 
of the regions through which they are traveUing. This 
consideration will, I hope, suggest an apology for what 
may to some appear digressions from the principal line of 
inquiry pursued in that work; as well as for the space 
which I have allotted, in this volume, to my discussions 
concerning the objects and the principle of Taste. 

To such students as wish to prosecute the philosophy 
of the human mind, the subject to which these last dis- 
cussions relate, possesses many additional recommenda- 



Chap. I] INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &o. 485 

tions. While it affords a pleasing avenue to their favourite 
department of knowledge, it turns the attention to a very 
numerous class of phenomena, without a knowledge of 
which it is impossible to form a just idea, either of the 
intellectual or moral constitution of human nature. But, 
what is of far greater consequence to themselves, con- 
sidered individually, it furnishes (as will appear more fully 
in the course of some of my future inquiries) the most 
effectual of all remedies for those peculiarities of judg- 
ment and of feeling, which are the natural consequences 
of metaphysical pursuits, when indulged in to an excess. 
In cases where the cultivation of imagination and of taste 
has been altogether neglected in early life, 1 would beg 
leave to recommend the study of philosophical criticism, 
as the most convenient link for connecting habits of ab- 
stract thought with these lighter and more ornamental ac- 
complishments; and, although it would be too much to 
promise, to a person whose youth has been spent in meta- 
physical disquisition, that he may yet acquire a complete 
relish for the intellectual pleasures which he has so long 
overlooked, he may be confidently assured, that enough 
is still wdthin his reach, to recompence amply the lime 
and pains employed in its pursuit. Even if little should 
be gained in point of positive enjoyment, his speculative 
knowledge of the capacities of the mind, cannot fail to be 
greatly and usefully enlarged. A sense of his limited 
powers will produce that diffidence in his own judgment, 
which is one of the most important lessons of philosophy; 
and, by engaging his attention to his personal defects, 
may be expected to render his plans of education, for 
those who are to come after him, more comprehensive and 



486 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

enlightened than that which was followed by his own in- 
structors. 

In thus recommending the study of philosophical criti- 
cism as a preparation for the culture of the arts to which 
imagination and taste are subservient, I am perfectly 
sensible that I propose an inversion of what may, in one 
point of view, be regarded as the order of nature: but, 
in the instances now in question, the mind is supposed to 
be in a morbid or mutilated state; and the effect to be 
produced is the development of powers and capacities 
which have never yet been unfolded. In such circum- 
stances, w'e must necessarily avail ourselves of the aid of 
such habits as happen to be already formed, in order to 
call forth whatever faculties and principles are still want- 
ing to complete the intellectual system. 

In cases, on the other hand, in which the imagination 
or the taste may be suspected to have gained an undue 
ascendant over the other powers of the understanding, the 
Philosophy of the Human Mind (supposing the attention 
to be judiciously and skilfully led to it, and the intellec- 
tual capacities not to be altogether unequal to the attempt), 
must necessarily prove the most profitable and interesting 
of all studies; and for this purpose, that branch of it 
which relates to philosophical criticism forms a connecting 
link, of which it is much easier for an instructor to avail 
himself, than when the curiosity is to be enticed (as was 
before proposed) in the contrary direction. The plan of 
study here suggested is copied from the order of Nature 
herself; the curiosity being led from known and familiar 
phenomena to an investigation of their general laws- 

Nor do I apprehend, that there is any danger of weak- 



Chap. I.] INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &c. 487 

ening the pleasures of imagination, by thus philosophiz- 
ing concerning their sources; notwithstanding what Mr. 
Burke has alleged in support of this conclusion, in the 
following very curious passage. I call it curious^ as it ap- 
pears to myself to be much more strongly marked with 
enthusiasm and extravagance, than with good sense and 
sober reflection. In point of mere expression, it is un- 
questionably one of the happiest in Mr. Burke's writings; 
and even, in point of thought, I am far from considering 
it as altogether destitute of truth. 

" The pleasures of imagination are much higher than 
" any which are derived from a rectitude of the judgment. 
'■' The judgment is, for the greater part, employed in 
" throwing stumbling-blocks in the way of the imagina- 
** tion, in dissipating the scenes of its enchantment, and in 
" tying us down to the disagreeable yoke of our reason; 
^' for almost the only pleasure that men have in judging 
^* better than others, consists in a sort of conscious pride 
*' and superiority, which arises from thinking rightly; but 
*' then, this is an indirect pleasure; a pleasure which does 
** not immediately result from the object which is under 
** contemplation. In the morning of our days, when the 
*' senses are unworn and tender, when the whole man is 
*' awake in every part, and the gloss of novelty fresh upon 
" all the objects that surround us, how lively at that time 
*' are our sensations, but how false and inaccurate the judg- 
'' ments we form of things? I despair of ever receiving the 
*' same degree of pleasure from the most excellent perfor- 
*' mances of genius, which I felt, at that age, from pieces 
** which my present judgment regards as trifling and con- 
** temptible. Every trivial cause of pleasure is apt to aflfect 



488 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

" the man of too sanguine a complexion; his appetite is 
" too keen to suffer his taste to be delicate; and he is in 
^^all respects what Ovid says of himself in love: 

" Molle meum levibus cor est violabile telis, 
" Et semper causa est, cur ego semper amem." 

In this passage, the very eloquent writer states the plea- 
sures of imagination, and those connected with the exer- 
cise of reason, as much more exclusive of each other, 
than seems to me consistent with fact. Indeed, I am 
strongly inclined to think (although I do not mean at pre- 
sent to enter into the argument), that they are both enjoy- 
ed in their greatest perfection, when properly combined 
together. The pleasures which Burke has so finely and 
pathetically touched upon, as peculiar to the imagina- 
tion in the morning of our days, are the effects, not of the 
weakness of our reasoning powers, but of novelty, of 
hope, of gaiety, and of a great variety of other adventi- 
tious causes, which then concur to enhance the enjoy- 
ment; and with which the intellectual pleasures which 
come afterwards (so unfortunately, as Burke seems to 
suppose) to cooperate, are by no means, in the nature 
of things, incompatible, however rarely they may be 
combined in early youth. I question much, whether, in 
the picture he has here drawn, the numberless other 
enjoyments, which distinguish that happy stage of life, 
did not contribute powerfully to exalt in his concep- 
tions that particular class of pleasures, on the memory 
of which he dwells with so much rapture; and whether, 
in estimating their comparative intenseness at different 

2 



Ghap. I.j INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &c. 48*9 

periods, he made due allowances for the effects of associ- 
ation in modifying all our recollections of the past, and 
more particularly of our tenderest years. I can easily con- 
ceive, that a man of taste should now persuade himself 
that, when a boy, he read Black more 's Arthur, with far 
greater pleasure than that which he receives at present 
from the i^neid or Paradise Lost; because, in the former 
case, the original impressions received from the poem, 
rise to his remembrance with a thousand borrowed 
charms: but I never can believe, that the pleasure com- 
municated to the most enthusiastic school-boy by such a 
performance, bears, in fact, any proportion, even in in- 
tenseness, to what Virgil and Milton must necessarily 
impart to every person possessed of a cultivated taste and 
an enlightened understanding.* — ^If Reynolds should have 
happened, in his old age, to revisit the village where he 
was born, with what transport would he probably recog- 
nize the most indifferent paintings to which the opportu- 
nities of his childhood afforded him access; and how apt 
would he be to overrate the pleasing impressions which 
he first received from these, by confounding them with 
the other attractions of his native spot! It is far from be- 
ing unlikely he would fancy, for the instant, that he had 
never since been equally delighted: yet how extravagant 

* Si done on se refroiclit sur les vers a mesure qii'on avance en age, 
ce n'est point par mepris pour la poesie; c*est au contraire par I'idee 
de perfection qu'on y attache. C*est parcequ'on a senti par les re- 
flexions, et connu par I'experience, la distance enorme du mediocre 
a Texcellent, qu'on ne pent plus souffrir le mediocre. Mais I'excel- 
lent gagne a cette comparaison; moins on pent lire de vers, plus oil 
goute ceux que le vrai talent sait produire. II n'y a que les vers 
sans genie qui percent a ce refroidissement, et ce n'est pas la un 
grand malheur.— D'Alembert. Reflexions sur la Poesie. 

3 Q 



490 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV, 

would be the illusion, to compare any gratification of 
which his inexperienced mind could possibly be sliscep- 
tible, with what he enjoyed at that moment of his after 
life, so admirably fancied by the poet: 

" When first the Vatican 
" UnbarrM its gates, and to his raptur'd eye 
« Gave Raffaelle's glories!" 

The passive gratifications connected with the sensible 
impression of visible objects, were probably then much 
impaired by long use and habit; but how trifling this 
abatement, in the general effect, when compared with 
the intellectual pleasures so copiously superadded by his 
experience and observation? — by his professional studies; 
by his own practice as a painter; by his powers of judg- 
ment, comparison, and reasoning; by his philosophical 
curiosity concerning the principles of his favourite art 
and the genius of this particular artist; in short, by every 
faculty and principle belonging to a rational and sensitive 
being, to which such an occasion could possibly afibrd any 
exercise? The greater the number of such intellectual 
enjoyments, that we can contrive to attach to those ob- 
jects which fall under the province of Taste, the more 
powerful must the effect of these objects become: — Nor 
would I be understood to exclude, in this observation, 
the pleasures connected with the severer sciences that 
regulate the mechanical processes of the different arts. 
Akenside has taken notice of the additional charms which 
physical science lends even to the beauties of nature; and 
has illustrated this by an example, which to me has al- 
ways appeared peculiarly fortunate, — the redoubled de 



Chap. I.] INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &c. 491 

light which he himself experienced, when he first looked 
at the rainbow, after studying the Newtonian theory of 
light and colours: 

" Nor ever yet 
" The melting rainbow's vermeil-tincturM hues* 
" To me have shone so pleasing, as when first 
" The hand of Science pointed out the path 
" In which the sun-beams, gleaming from the west, 
" Fall on the watry cloud, whose darksome veil 
" Involves the orient."* 

But waving all these considerations, and granting Mr. 
Burke's general doctrine to be true, that the pleasures of 
imagination are enjoyed with the most exquisite delight, 
when they are altogether uncontrouled by the reasoning 
faculty, the practical lesson will still be found, on either 
supposition, to be exactly the same; for it is only by 
combining the pleasures arising from both parts of our 
frame, that the duration of the former can be prolonged 
beyond the thoughtless period of youth; or that they can 
be enjoyed even then^ for any length of time, without 
ending in satiety and languor. The activity which always 
accompanies the exercise of our reasoning powers seems, 
in fact, to be a zest essentially necessary, for enlivening 
the comparatively indolent state of mind, which the plea- 
sures of imagination and of taste have a tendency to en- 
courage. 

I will venture to add, however contrary to the prevail- 
ing opinion on this subject, that by a judicious combina- 
tion of the pleasures of reason with those of the imagina- 
tion, the vigour of the latter faculty may be preserved* 

* Note (R r). 



492 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

in a great measure, unimpaired, even to the more ad- 
vanced periods of life. According to the common doctrine, 
its gradual decline, after the short season of youih, is not 
merely the natural consequence of growing re j son and 
experience, but the necessary effect of our physical or- 
ganization: And yet, numberless examples, in direct 
opposition to this conclusion, must immediately occur to 
every person, at all acquainted with literary history. But 
as I must not enter here into details with respect to these^ 
I shall content myself with a short quotation from Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, whose opinion on this point, I am 
happy to find, coincides entirely with my own; and whose 
judgment, concerning a matter of fact, so intimately con- 
nected w^ith his ordinary habits of observation and of 
thought, is justly entitled to much deference. His opinion 
too, it is to be remarked, is not only stated with perfect 
confidence; but the prejudice, to which it stands opposed, 
is treated with contempt and ridicule, as not entitled to a 
serious refutation. 

*' We will allow a poet to express his meaning, when 
" his meaning is not well known to himself, with a cer- 
" tain degree of obscurity, as it is one source of the sub- 
** lime. But when, in plain prose, we gravely talk of at- 
*' tending to times and seasons when the imagination 
" shoots with the greatest vigour; whether at the summer 
" solstice or the equinox; sagaciously observing, how 
" much the wild freedom and liberty of imagination is 
** cramped by attention to vulgar rules; and how this same 
*' imagination begins to grow dim in advanced age, 
*' smothered and deadened by too much judgment: — 
^* when we talk such language, and entertain such senti^ 



Chap. 1.3 INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &e, 493 

*^ ments as these, we generally rest contented with mere 
" words, or at best entertain notions, not only groundless, 
" but pernicious." 

'' I can believe, that a man, eminent when young 

" for possessing poetical imagination, may, from having 
" taken another road, so neglect its cultivation as to shew 
** less of its powers in his latter life. But I am persuaded, 
^' that scarce a poet is to be found, from Homer down to 
*' Dryden, who preserved a sound mind in a sound body, 
" and continued practising his profession to the very last, 
^* whose latter works are not as replete with the fire of 
" imagination, as those which were produced in his more 
"youthful days."^ 

After all, however, it cannot be denied, that the differ- 
ences among individuals, in the natural history of this 
power, are immense; and that instances very frequently 
occur, from which the prejudice now under consideration 
seems, on a superficial view, to receive no small coun- 
tenance. If examples have now and then appeared of old 
men continuing to display it in its full perfection, how 
many are the cases, in which, after a short promise of un- 
common exuberance, the sources of nourishment have 
seemed all at once to dry up, and the plant to wither to 
its very roots, without the hope or the possibility of a re- 
vival? — In instances of this last description, I could almost 
venture to assert, that if circumstances be accurately ex- 
amined, it will invariably be found, that a lively imagina- 
tion is united with a weak judgment; with scanty stores 
of acquired knowledge, and with little industry to sup- 
ply the defect. The consequence is, that the materials^ 

* Discourse delivered 10th Dec. 1776. 



494 OK THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

which it is the province of imagination to modify and to 
combine, are soon exhausted; the internal resources of 
reason and meditation are wanting; and the imagination 
either disappears altogether, or degenerates into child- 
ishness and folly. In those poets and other artists, on the 
contrary, who have retained to the last all the powers of 
their genius, Imagination will be found to be one only 
of the many endowments and habits, which constituted 
their intellectual superiority;- — an understanding enriched 
every moment by a new accession of information from 
without, and fed by a perennial spring of new ideas 
from within;— a systematical pursuit of the same object 
through the whole of life, profiting, at every step, by the 
lessons of its own experience, and the recollection of its 
own errors;— -above all, the steady exercise of reason and 
good sense in controuling, guiding, and stimulating this 
important, but subordinate faculty; subjecting it betimes 
to the wholesome discipline of rules, and, by a constant 
application of it to its destined purposes, preserving to it 
entire, all the advantages which it received from the hand 
of nature. 



Ch.p. U.] INTBLLECTUAL HABITS, Itc 495 



CHAPTER SECOND. 

CH3NTINUATI0N OF THE SUBJECT. REPLY TO AN OBJECTION FOUND- 
ED ON THE SUPPOSED VIGOUR OF IMAGINATION IN THE EARLIER 
PERIODS OF SOCIETY. 

It now only remains for me, before I conclude these 
speculations, to obviate an objection against a supposition, 
involved in many of the preceding reasonings, and more 
especially in the remarks which have been just stated, on 
the possibility of prolonging the pleasures of Imagination,, 
after the enthusiasm of youth has subsided. The objec- 
tion I allude to, is founded on a doctrine which has been 
commonly, or rather universally taught of late; according 
to which Imagination is represented as in its state of 
highest perfection in those rude periods of society, when 
the faculties shoot up wild and free. If imagination re- 
quire culture for its development; and if, in the mind of 
an individual, it may be rendered more vigorous and 
luxuriant when subjected to the discipline of reason and 
good sense, what account (it may be asked) shall we give 
of those figurative strains of oratory which have been 
quoted from the harangues of American Indians; and of 
those relics of the poetry of rude nations, which it is the 
pride of human genius, in its state of greatest refinement, 
to studv and to imitate? 



4^ 



496 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

In order to form correct notions with respect to this 
question, it is necessary to consider, that when 1 speak of 
a cultivated imagination, I mean an imagination which 
has acquired such a degree of activity as to deHght in its 
own exertions; to deHght in conjuring up those ideal com- 
binations w^hich withdraw the mind from the present ob- 
jects of sense, and transport it into a new w^orld. Now, of 
this activity and versatility of imagination, I find no traces 
among rude tribes. Their diction is, indeed, highly meta- 
phorical; but the metaphors they employ are either the 
unavoidable consequences of an imperfect language, or 
they are inspired by the mechanical impulse of passion. 
In both instances, imagination operates to a certain degree; 
but in neither is imagination the primary cause of the 
effect; inasmuch as in the one, it is excited by passion, 
and in the other, called forth by the pressure of necessity. 
A strong confirmation of this remark may be drawn from 
the indolence of savages, and their improvidence concern- 
ing futurity; a feature in their character, in which all the 
most authentic pictures of it agree. Dr. Robertson him- 
self, notwithstanding the countenance w^hich he has occa- 
sionally given to the doctrine which I am now combating, 
has stated this circumstance so very strongly, that it is 
surprising he was not led, by his own description, to per- 
ceive, that his general conclusions concerning the poet- 
ical genius of savages, required some limitation. " The 
*' thoughts and attention of a savage are confined within 
" the small circle of objects immediately conducive to his 
" preservation and enjoyment. Every thing beyond that 
" escapes his observation, or is perfectly indifferent to him. 
'* Like a mere animal, what is before his eyes interests 

9 



Chap. H,] INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &«. 497 

' and affects him: what is out of sight, or at a distance, 
'• makes no impression. When, on the approach of the 
' evening, a Caribbee feels himself disposed to go to rest, 
' no consideration will tempt him to sell his hammoc. 
' But, in the morning, when he is sallying out to the 
' business or pastime of the day, he will part with it for 
' the slightest toy that catches his fancy. At the close of 
' winter, while the impression of what he has suffered 
' from the rigour of the climate, is fresh in the mind of 
' the North American, he sets himself with vigour to 

* prepare materials for erecting a comfortable hut to pro- 
' tect him against the inclemencies of the succeeding 

* season; but, as soon as the weather becomes mild, he 

* forgets what is past, abandons his work, and never 
' thinks of it more, until the return of cold compels him, 
' when too late, to resume it." How is it possible to re- 
concile these facts with the assertion, that imagination is 
most lively and vigorous in the ruder periods of society? 

The indifference of savages to religious impressions, 
gives additional evidence to the foregoing conclusions. 
*' The powers of their uncultivated understandings are so 
" limited," (says the eloquent and faithful historian just 
now quoted) " that their observations and reflections reach 
" little beyond the mere objects of sense. The numerous 
" and splendid ceremonies of popish worship, as they 
** catch the eye, please and interest them; but when their 
" instructors attempt to explain the articles of faith with 
" which these external observances are connected, though 
" they listen with patience, they so little conceive the 
** meaning of what they hear, that their acquiescence does 
** not merit the name of belief. Their indifference is 

3R 



498 ox THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

** Still greater than their incapacity. Attentive only to the 
" present moment, and engrossed by the objects before 
" them, the Indians so seldom reflect on what is past, or 
" take thought for what is to come, that neither the pro- 
^' mises nor threats of religion make much impression 
" upon them; and while their foresight rarely extends so 
*' far as the next day, it is almost impossible to inspire 
*' them with solicitude about the concerns of a future 
'' world." 

In critical discussions concerning the poetical relics 
which have been handed down to us from the earlier pe- 
riods of society, frequent appeals have been made to the 
eloquence of savage orators, as a proof of the peculiar 
relish with which the pleasures of imagination are enjoy- 
ed by uncultivated minds. But this inference has been 
drawn from a veiy partial view of circumstances. The 
eloquence of savages (as I already hinted) is the natural 
offspring of passion impatient to give vent to its feelings, 
and struggling with the restraints of a scanty vocabulary; 
and it implies none of those inventive powers which are 
displayed in the creation of characters, of situations, of 
events, of ideal scenery; — none of the powers, in short, 
which form the distinguishing attributes of poetical genius. 
In the mind of the poet, on the other hand, it happens 
much less frequently, that imagination is inspired by pas- 
sion, than passion by imagination; and, in all cases, the 
specific pleasures of imagination are most completely en- 
joyed when the passions are at rest. In order, besides, 
to render these pleasures a solid accession to human hap- 
piness, it is necessary that the individual should be able, 
at will, so to apply the faculty from which they arise, to 



Chap. II.] INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &c. 499 

its appropriate objects, as to find in its exercise an unfail- 
ing source of delight, whenever he wishes to enliven the 
intervals of bodily labour, or of animal indulgence; — a 
capacity, surely, which is by no means implied in the use 
of that figurative diction by which savages are said to 
convey their ideas; and vi^hich is utterly irreconcilable 
with the most authentic accounts we have received of the 
great features of their intellectual character. On this oc- 
casion, we may, with confidence adopt the beautiful words 
which one of our poets has, with a more than questionable 
propriety, applied to a gallant and enlightened people, en- 
titled to a very high rank in the scale of European civili- 
zation; 

" Unknown to them^ when sensual pleasures cloy, 
" To fill the languid pause with finer joy." 

Where particular circumstances, indeed, have given 
any encouragement, among rude tribes, to the pacific pro- 
fession of a bard; still more, where an order of bards has 
formed a part of the political establishment, individuals 
may be conceived to have occasionally arisen, whose 
poetical compositions are likely to increase in reputation 
as the world grows older. Obvious reasons may be assign- 
ed, why imagination should be ^susceptible of culture, at 
a period when the intellectual powers which require the 
aid of experience and observation must necessarily con- 
tinue in infancy; and the very peculiarities, which, in such 
circumstances, its productions exhibit, although they 
would justly be regarded as blemishes in those of a more 
refined age, may interest the philosopher, and even please 
the critic, as characteristical of the human mind in the 



500 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

earlier stages of its progress. The same circumstances, 
too, which influence so powerfully the eloquence of the 
savage orator, furnish to the bard a language peculiarly 
adapted to his purpose, and in which the antiquaric s of a 
distant age are to perceive numberless charms of which 
the author was unconscious. In the compositions of such 
a poet, even the defects of his taste become, in the judg- 
ment of the multitude, proofs of the vigour of his imagi- 
nation; the powers of genius, where they are irregularly 
displayed, producing upon a superficial observer, an im- 
posing but illusory effect in point of magnitude, similar 
to that of an ill-proportioned human figure, or of a build- 
ing which violates the established rules of architecture. 
No prejudice can be more groundless than this; and yet 
it seems to be the chief foundation of the common doc- 
trine which considers imagination and taste as incom- 
patible with each other, and measures the former by the 
number and the boldness of its trespasses against the latter. 
My own opinion, I acknowledge, is, that, as the habitual 
exercise of imagination is essential to those intellectual 
experiments of which a genuine ar^d unborrowed taste is 
the slow result, so, on the other hand, that it is in the 
productions of genius, when disciplined by an enlighten- 
ed taste, that the noblest elForts of imagination are to be 
found. 

Nor is there any thing in these conclusions, at all in- 
consistent with what I have already asserted, concerning^ 
the dormant and inactive state of imagination in the mind 
of a savage; or with the account given, in the preceding 
Essay, of the gradual process by which taste is formed. 
To a professional bard, in whatever period of society he 



Chap. 11.3 INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &c. 501 

may appear, the exercise of his imagination, and, as far 
as circumstances may allow, the culture of his taste, must 
necessarily be the great objects of his study; and there- 
fore, no inference can be drawn from his attainments and 
habits to those of the mass of the community to which he 
belongs. The blind admiration with which his rude essays 
are commonly received by his contemporaries, and the 
ideas of inspiration and of prophetic gifts which they are 
apt to connect with the efforts of his invention, are proofs 
of this; shewing evidently, that he is then considered as 
a being, to whose powers nothing analogous exists in the 
ordinary endowments of human nature. In such a state 
of manners as ours, when the advantages of education 
are in some degree imparted to all, the institution of a 
separate order of bards would be impossible; and we be- 
gin even to call in question the old opinion, that poetical 
genius is more the offspring of nature than of study. The 
increasing frequency of a certain degree of poetical talent, 
both among the higher and the lower orders of the com- 
munity, renders this conclusion not unnatural, in tlie pre- 
sent limes; and the case seems to have been somewhat 
the same in the Augustan age: 

" Scribimus indocti doctique poemata passim." 

If these remarks are well founded, the diffusion of the 
Pleasures of Imagination, as well as the diffusion of know- 
ledge, is to be ranked among the blessings for which wc 
are indebted to the progress of society: — And it is a cir- 
cumstance extremely worthy of consideration, that the 
same causes which render imagination more productive of 
pleasure, render it less productive of pain than before. In- 



502 ON THE CULTURE OF CERTAIN [Essay IV. 

deed, I am much inclined to doubt, whether, without the 
controlling guidance of reason, the pleasures or the pains 
of imagination are likely to preponderate. Whatever the 
result may be in particular instances, it certainly depends, 
in a great measure, upon accidents unconnected with the 
general state of manners. I cannot, therefore, join in the 
sentiment so pleasingly and fancifully expressed in the 
following Hnes of Voltaire; in which (by the way) a strong 
resemblance is observable to a passage already quoted 
from Burke: 

" O I'heureux terns que celui de ces fables, 
" Des bons demons, des e sprits familiers, 
'^ Des farfadets, aiix mortels secourablesi 
'' On ecoutait tons ces faits admirables 
" Dans son chateau, pres d*un large foyer: 
" Le pere et I'oncle, et la mere et la fille, 
*' Et les voisins, et toute la famille, 
^^ Ouvraient Toreille a Monsieur TAumonier, 
" Qui leur faisait des contes de sorcier. 

" On a banne les demons et les fees; 
" Sous la raison les graces etouffees, 
"Livrent nos coeurs a Tinsipidite; 
" Le raisonner tristement s'accredite; 
" On court, helas! apres la verite; 
" Ah! croyez moi, I'erreur a son merite."* 

For my own part, I think I can now enjoy these tales 
of wonder with as lively a relish as the most credulous 
devotee in the superstitious times which gave them birth: 
Nor do I value the pleasure which they afford me the 
less, that my reason teaches me to regard them as vehi- 

* Contes de Guillaume Vade. 



qhap.ll.] INTELLECTUAL HABITS, &c. 503 

cles of amusement, not as articles of faith. — But it is not 
reason alone that operates, in an age like the present, in 
correcting the credulity of our forefathers. Imagination 
herself furnishes the most effectual of all remedies against 
those errors of which she was, in the first instance, the 
cause; the versatile activity which she acquires by con- 
stant and varied exercise, depriving superstition of the 
most formidable engine it was able heretofore to employ, 
for subjugating the infant understanding. In proportion 
to the number and diversity of the objects to which she 
turns her attention, the dangers are diminished which are 
apt to arise from her illusions, when they are suffered 
always to run in the same channel; and in this manner, 
while the sources of enjoyment become more copious 
and varied, the concomitant pains and inconveniencies 
disappear. 

This conclusion coincides with a remark in that chap- 
ter of the Philosophy of the Human Mind which relates 
to Imagination;- — that, by a frequent and habitual exer- 
cise of this faculty, we at once cherish its vigour, and 
bring it more and more under our command. — ** As we 
" can withdraw the attention at pleasure from objects of 
" sense, and transport ourselves into a world of our own, 
" so, when we wish to moderate our enthusiasm, we can 
" dismiss the objects of imagination, and return to our 
** ordinary perceptions and occupations. But in a mind 
" to which these intellectual visions are not familiar, and 
" which borrows them completely from the genius of 
*' another, imagination, when once excited, becomes 
" perfectly ungovernable, and produces something like 
** a temporary insanity." — *' Hence" (I have addedj 



504 ON THE CULTURE, &<J. [EsJay IV. 

" the wonderful effects of popular eloquence on the lower 
" orders; effects which are much more remarkable than 
" what it produces on men of education." 

In the history of Imagination, nothing appears to me 
more interesting than the fact stated in the foregoing 
passage; suggesting plainly this practical lesson, that the 
' early and systematical culture of this faculty, while it is 
indispensably necessary to its future strength and acti- 
vity, is the most effectual of all expedients for subjecting 
it, in the more serious concerns of life, to the supremacy 
of our rational powers. And, in truth, I apprehend it will 
be found, that, by accustoming it in childhood to a fre- 
quent change of its objects (one set of illusions being 
continually suffered to efface the impressions of another), 
the understanding may be more successfully invigorated 
' than by any precepts addressed directly to itself; and the 
terrors of the nursery, where they have vnifortunately 
overclouded the infant mind, gradually and insensibly 
dispelled, in the first dawning of reason. The momentary 
j^ belief with which the visions of imagination are always 
accompanied, and upon which many of its pleasures de- 
pend, will continue unshaken; while that permanent or^ 
habitual belief which they are apt to produce, where it 
gains the ascendant over our nobler principles, will va- 
nish for ever. 

But the subject grows upon me in extent, and rises in 
importance, as I proceed; and the size of my Volume re- 
minds me, that it is now more than time to bring these 
speculations to a close. Here, therefore, I pause for the 
present; — not, however, without some hope of soon re- 
suming a more systematical analysis of our intellectual 

powers and capacities. 

2 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



3S 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



NOTE (A), P. 65. 

1 HAT there are many words used in philosophic discourse, 
which do not admit of logical definition, is abundantly manifest. 
This is the case with all those words that signify things uncom- 
pounded, and consequently unsusceptible of analysis; — a propo- 
sition, one should think, almost self-evident; and yet it is surpri- 
sing, how very generally it has been overlooked by philosophers. 
That Aristotle himself, with all his acuteness, was not aware 
of it, appears sufficiently from the attempts he has made to define 
various words denoting some of the simplest and most elemen- 
tary objects of human thought. Of this, remarkable instances 
occur in his definitions of time and of motion; definitions which 
were long the wonder and admiration of the learned; but which 
are now remembered only, from their singular obscurity and 
absurdity. It is owing to a want of attention to this circumstance, 
that metaphysicians have so often puzzled themselves about the 
import of terms, employed familiarly without the slightest dan- 
ger of mistake by the most illiterate; — ^imagining, that what they 
could not define must involve some peculiar mystery; when, in 
fact, the difficulty of the definition arose entirely from the per- 
fect simplicity of the thing to be defined. Quid sit Tempus, 
(said St. Augustine) si nemo quserat a me, scio; si quis inter- 
roget, nescio. 

According to Dr. Reid, Des Cartes and Locke are the earliest 
writers by whom this fundamental principle in logic was stated; 



508 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

but the remark is by no means correct. I do not know if Mr, 
Locke himself has expressed it more clearly than our celebrated 
Scoitish lawyer Lord Stair, in a work published several years 
before the Essay on Human understanding; and it is worthy of 
observation, that, so far from ascribing the merit of it to Des 
Cartes, he censures that philosopher, in common with Aristotle, 
for a want of due attention to it. 

" Necesse est quosdam terminos esse adeo claros, ut clariori- 
" bus elucidari nequeant, alioquin infinitus esset progressus in 
" terminorum explicatione, adeo ut nulla possit esse clara cogni- 
" tio, nee ullus certo scire possit alterius conceptus.*' 

" Tales termini sunt Cogitatio^ Motus^ quibus non dantur cla- 
" riores conceptus aut termini, et brevi apparebit, quam inuti liter 
" Aristoteles et Cartesius conati sunt definire Motum." 

Physiologia Nova Experimentalis, &c. (p. 9.) Authore D. de 
Stair, Carolo II. Britanniarum Regi a Consiliis Juris et Status. 
Ludg. Batav. 1686. — See also p. 79 of the same book. 

Locke's Essay (as appears from the dedication) was first print- 
ed in 1689. Lord Stair's work must have been published a con- 
siderable time before. The Latin translation of it (which is the 
only edition of the book I have seen) is dated 1686; and bears, 
on the title page, that the original had appeared before. J^ufier 
Latinitate donata. 

According to a learned and ingenious writer, Aristotle himself 
"had taught, before Mr. Locke, that what the latter calls simple 
" ideas could not be defined." — (Translation of Aristotle's Ethics 
and Politics, by Dr. Gillies, Vol. I. p. 138, 2d edit.) The pas- 
sages, however, to which he has referred, seem to me much less 
decisive evidence in support of this assertion, than Aristotle's 
own definitions are against it. Nor can I bring myself to alter 
this opinion, even by Dr. Gillies's attempt to elucidate the cele- 
brated definition of Motion. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 5g9 



NOTE (B), p. 83. 

It may be of use to some of my readers, before proceeding to 
the thivd chapter, to read with attention, the following extracts 
from Dr. Re id. 

" The word idea occurs so frequently in modern philosophical 
" writings upon the mind, am is so ambiguous in its meaning, 
" that it is necessary to make some obsei nations upon it. There 
" are chiefly two meanings of this word in modern authors, a po- 
" pular and a philosophical. 

" Firsts In popular language, idea signifies the same thing 
" as conception, apprehension, notion. To have an idea of any 
" thing, is to conceive it. To have a distinct idea is to conceive it 
" distinctly. To have no idea of it, is not to conceive it at all. 

" When the word is taken in this popular sense, no man can 
" possibly doubt, whether he has ideas. For he that doubts must 
" think, and to think is to have ideas. 

" Secondly^ According to the philosophical meaning of the 
'* word idea, it does not signify that act of the mind which we ^ 
" call thought or conception, but some object of thought. Ideas, 
" according to Mr. Locke, (whose frequent use of this word has 
" probably been the occasion of its being adopted into common 
" language) ^ are nothing but the immediate objects of the mind 
" in thinking.' But of those objects of thought called ideas, diffe- 
" rent sects of philosophers have given a very different account. 

«^ Mr. Locke, who uses the word idea so very frequently, tells 
" us, that he means the same thing by it, as is commonly meant 
" by sjiecies or phantasm, Gassendi, from whom Locke bor- 
^^ rowed more than from any other author, says the same. The 
" words species diW^ phantasm^ are terms of art in the Peripatetic ^ 
" system, and the meaning of them is to be learned from it. 

"Modern philosophers, as well as the Peripatetics of old, have 



510 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

" conceivedj that exteinal objects cannot be the immediate objects 
" of our thought; that there must be some image of them in the 
" mind itself, in which, as in a mirror, they are seen. And the 
" name idea, in the philosophical sense of it, is given to those 
" internal and immediate objects of our thoughts. The external 

/« thing is the remote or mediate object; but the idea or image 
" of that object in the mind, is the immediate object, without 

/ " which we couid have no perception, no remembrance, no con- 
<' ception of the mediate object. 

" When, therefore, in common language, we speak of having 
" an idea of any thing, we mean no more by that expression, but 
*' thinking of it. The vulgar allow, that this expression implies 
" a mind that thinks; and an act of that mind which we call 
"thinking. But besides these, the philosopher conceives the 
" existence of an idea which is the immediate object of thought. 
"The idea is in the mind itself, and can have no existence but 
" in a mind that thinks; but the remote or mediate object may 
"be something external, as the sun or moon; it may be some- 
*' thing past or future; it may be something which never existed. 
" This is the philosophical meaning of the word idea; and we 
" may observe, that this meaning of that word is built upon a 
" philosophical opinion: For if philosophers had not believed 
" that there are such immediate objects of all our thoughts in the 
" mind, they would never have used the word idea to express 
f'them. 

" I shall only add on this article, that although I may have 
f^ occasion to use tlie word idea in this philosophical sense, in 
*<' explaining the opinions of others, I shall have no occasion to 
" use it in expressing my own, because I believe ideas, taken in 
" this sense, to be a mere fiction of philosophers. And, in the 
" popular meaning of the word, there is the less occasion to use 
" it because the English words thought, notion, apprehension^ 

/ " answer the purposes as well as the Greek word idea; with this, 
" advantage, that they are less ambiguous."— (Essays on the In- 
tellectual Powers, p. 22.. et seq.) 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 511 

After this long quotation from Dr. Reid, it is proper to men- 
tion, what has induced me to make an occasional use, in these 
Essays, of a word which he has taken so much pains to discard 
from the language of philosophy. 

My reason is shortly this, that finding, after all he has written 
on the subject, the word idea still maintains, and is likely long 
to maintain its ground, it seemed to me a more practicable at- 
tempt to limit and define its meaning, than to banish it altoge- 
ther. For this purpose, I generally couple it with some synony- 
mous word, such as thought or notio?:^ so as to exclude com- 
pletely all the theoretical doctrines usually imphed in it; and I 
cannot help flattering myself with the hope, that in this way, I 
may be able to contribute something towards the gradual extirpa- 
tion of the prejudices, to which, in its philosophical acceptation^ 
it has hitherto given so powerful a support. 

It may gratify the curiosity of some of my readers, to be able 
to compare the language of Des Cartes concerning idea.^, with 
that of Mr. Locke. According to the first of these writers, " an 
" idea is the thing thought upon, as far as it is objectively in the 
" understanding." Idea est ipsa res cogitatUy giiatenus est objec- 
tive in intellectu. By way of comment upon this, he tells us 
afterwards, in reply to a difficalty started by one of his corres- 
pondents; — ubi advertendum, me loqui de idea qu^ nunquam est 
extra intellectum, et ratione cujus esse objective non aliud signi- 
ficat, quam esse in intellectu eo modo quo objecta in illo esse 
Solent. — -(Responsio ad Primas Objectiones in Meditationes Car- 
tesii.) 

I may not have a better opportunity of observing afterwards, 
that Des Cartes rejected entirely that part of the Peripatetic 
system which accounts for perception by sjiecies or ideas procee- 
ding from external things, and transmitted to the mind through 
the channel of the senses. His arguments against that hypothesis 
were so clear and conclusive that Gravesande, in a small treatise 
published in 1737, speaks of it as unworthy of refutation: Explo- 
sam dudum, de speciebus a rebus procedentibus, et menti im- 



512 ^ NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

pressis, sententiam explicare et refellere, inutile credimus.* — 
(Introductio ad Philosophiam, p. 98.) 

While Des Cartes, however, dissented on this point, from 
the schoolmen, he maintained, in common with them, that what 
we immediately perceive is not the external object, but an idea 
or image of it in our mind. 

Among our later writers, I do not recollect any who have en- 
tered into so elaborate an explanation of the nature of ideasy con- 
sidered as the objects of thought, as the ingenious author of a 
work entitled, the Light of JVature Pursued. The following pas- 
sage, which he gives as the substance of his own creed on this 
point, is, I suspect, a tolerably faithful exposition of prejudices 
which still remain in most minds; and which are insensibly im- 
bibed in early life, from the hypothetical phraseology bequeathed 
to us by the schoolmen. 

*' Idea is the same as image, and the term imagination im- 
" plies a receptacle of images: but image being appropriated, by 
" common use, to visible objects, could not well be extended to 
" other things without confusion; wherefore learned men have 
" imported the Greek word idea, signifying image or appearance, 
" to which, being their own peculiar property, they might affix 
" as large a signification as they pleased. For the image of a 
" sound, or of goodness, would have offended our delicacy, but 
"the idea of either goes down glibly: therefore idea is the same 
" with respect to things in general, as image with respect to ob- 
" jects of vision. 

" In order to render the notion of ideas clearer, let us begin 
" with images. When a peacock spreads his tail in our sight, 

* Mr. Hume afterwards relapsed into the old scholastic language on this 
subject: " The slightest philosophy teaches us, that nothing- can ever be 
"present to the mind but an image or perception; and that the senses are 
" only the inlets through which these are received, without being ever 
** able to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the 
" object." — Essays. 

How this language is to be reconciled with the philosophy which teaches, 
that ideas or images can have no existence but in a mind, Mr. Hume has 
not attempted to explain. 

2 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 513 

^« we have a full view of the creature with all his gaudy plumage 
« before us; the bird remains at some distance, but the light re- 
" fleeted from him paints an image upon our eyes, and the op- 
" tic nerves transmit it to the sensory. This image, when arrived 
" at the ends of the nerves, becomes an idea, and gives us our 
" discernment of the animal; and after the bird is gone out of 
" view, we can recal the idea of him to perform the same ofBce 
" as before, though in a duller and fainter manner. So, when 
" the nightingale warbles, the sound reaches our ears, and, pas- 
" sing through the auditory nerves, exhibits an idea, affecting 
" us with the discernment of her music: and after she has given 
" over singing, the same idea may recur to our remembrance, or 
" be raised again by us at pleasure. In like manner, our other 
" senses convey ideas of their respective kinds, v.hich recur 
"again to our view long after the objects first exciting them have 
" been removed. 

"These ideas having entered the mind, intermingle, unite, sepa- 
<< rate, throw themselves into various combinations and postures, 
" and thereby generate new ideas of reflection, strictly so called, 
" such as those of comparing, dividing, distinguishing, of abstrac- 
" tion, relation, with many others: all which remain with us as 
" stock for our further use on future occasions." 

" What those substances are whereof our ideas are the 

" modifications, ivhether fiarts of the mind as the members are of 
" our body^ or contained in it like wafers in a box^ or enveloped by 
" it like fish in water; whether of a sfiirituat, corjioreal^ or middle 
" nature between both^ I need not now ascertain. All I mean at 
" present to lay down is this: That, in every exercise of the un- 
" derstanding, that which discerns is numerically and substantially 
" distinct from that which is discerned; and that an act of the 
*' understanding is not so much our own proper act, as the act 
" of something else operating upon us.'* — Vol. I. p. 15, et seq. 
(edit, of 1768.) 

On this and some other points touched upon in these Essays^ 

3T 



514 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 

I am sorry that I have the misfortune to differ from an author, 
for whose talents, learning, and taste, I entertain a high respect. 
I have purposely avoided any reference to his book through the 
whole of this volume, as his reasonings did not appear to myself 
to invalidate the conclusions which I was chiefly anxious to es- 
tablish. See Academical Questions by the Right Honourable 
Sir William Drummond (London, 1805): particularly Chapter 
X., which contains his defence of the Ideal Theory. It is direct- 
ed chiefly against some arguments and expressions of Dr. Reid> 
and must be acknowledged, everi by those who dissent the most 
widely from its doctrinesj to be written with equal ability and 
candour. 



NOTE (C), P. 93. 

"Those things which are inferior and secondary, are by no 
" means the principles or causes of the more excellent; and, 
" though we admit the common interpretations, and allow sense 
" to be a principle of science, we must, however, call it a princi- 
" pie, not as if it was the efficient cause but as it rouses our soul 
« to the recollection of general ideas. According to the same 
" way of thinking, is it said in the Timsus, that through the 
" sight and liearing we acquire to ourselves philosophy, because 
" we pass from objects of sense to Reminiscence or Recollec- 

" tion."' " For, in as much as the soul, by containing the 

« principles of all beings, is a sort of omniform representation or 
" exemplar: when it is roused by objects of sense, it recollects 
« those principles, which it contains within, and brings them 
« forth." 

The foregoing passages (which I give in the version of Mr. 
Harris) are taken from a manuscript commentary of the Platonic 
Olympiodorus upon the Phaedo of Plato. See Harris's Works, 
Vol. I. p. 426. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONg. 515 

The following lines are from Boethius, who, after having enu- 
merated many acts of the Mind or Intellect, wholly distinct 
from Sensation, and independent of it, thus concludes? 

*♦ Hsec est efficiens magia 
** Longe caussa potentior, 
** Qiiam quae materia modo 
•' Impressas patitur notas. 
** Praecedit tamen excitans, 
*' Ac vires animi movens, 
** Vivo in corpore passio, 
** Cum vel lux oculos ferit, 
** Vel vox auribus Instrepit; 
**Tum MENTIS VIGOR excitus, 

<* QUAS INTUS SPECIES TENET, 

" Ad motus simileis vocans, 
** Notis applicat exteris, 
" Introrsumq_ue reconditis 
"FoRMis miscet imagines. 

De Consol. Phil. 1. v. 

To these quotations I shall only add a short extract from Dr. 
Price. 

"According to Cudworth, abstract ideas are implied in the 

" cognoscitive fioiver of the mind; which contains in itself virtually 
" (as the future plant or tree is contained in the seed) general nO' 
« tions or exemfilars of all things^ which are exerted by it,, or un* 
^^fold and discover themselves as occasions invite^ and firofier cir- 
" cumstances occur. This no doubt, many will very freely con- 
" demn, as whimsical and extravagant. I have, I own, a different 
" opinion of it; but yet I should not care to be obliged to defend 
« it." Price's Review, &c. (London 1769) p. 39. 



516 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



NOTE (D), p. 101. 



The word sentiment^ agreeably to the use made of it by our 
best English writers, expresses, in my opinion, very happily, 
those complex determinations of the mind, which result from 
the cooperation of our rational powers and of our moral feelings. 
We do not speak of a man's sentiments concerning a mechanical 
contrivance, or a physical hypothesis, or concerning any specu- 
lative question whatever, by which the feelings are not liable to 
be roused, or the heart affected. 

This account of the meaning of the word sentiment corres- 
ponds, I think, exactly with the use made of it by Mr. Smith, in 
the title of his Theory. It agrees also nearly with the following 
explanation of its import, in Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric: 
" What is addressed solely to the moral powers of the mind, is 
" not so properly denominated the pathetic^ as the sentimental, 
"The term, I own, is rather modern, but is nevertheless conveni- 
" ent, as it fills a vacant room, and does not, like most of our new- 
" fangled words, justle out older and worthier occupants, to the 
" no small detriment of the language. It occupies, so to speak, 
<•' the middle place between the pathetic and that which is ad- 
" dressed to the imagination, and partakes of both, adding to the 
" warmth of the former, the grace and attractions of the latter.'* 

Would not Campbell have stated this philological fact still 
more accurately, if he had substituted the word understanding 
instead oi imagination^ in the last sentence? — making such altera- 
tions on the subsequent clause, as this change would have rend- 
ered necessary. — In proposing the following, I wish only to 
convey my idea more clearly: — " and partakes of both, adding 
*< to the interest of the former, the sober and deliberate convic- 
«tion of the latter." 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 517 

Dr. Beattie has said, " that the true and the old English sense 
" of the word senthneiit is a formed opinion, notion, or princi- 
" pie;"* and he is certainly supported in this remark, by the ex- 
planation of that word in Johnson's Dictionary. It is remarkable 
however, that the very first authority quoted by Johnson is strong- 
ly in favour of what I have stated concerning the shade of differ- 
ence between the words sentiment and opinion. " The consid- 
" eration of the reason, why they are annexed to so many other 
<^* ideas, serving to give us due sentiments of the wisdom and good- 
*•' ncss oi xhe sovereign Disposer of all things, may not be tmsuit- 
" able to the main end of these inquiries." — (Locke.) 

One thing at least must be granted, that, if this term be con- 
sidered as exactly synonymous with opinion ov principle^ it is 
altogether superfluous in our language; whereas, in the restrict- 
ed sense in which I am inclined to employ it, it forms a real and 
niost convenient accession to our philosophical vocabulary. 

If these remarks be just. Dr. Reid has made use of the word 
somewhat improperly (at least according to present usage), when 
he speaks in his Essays on the Intellectual Powers, of the senti- 
ments oi Mr. Locke concerning perception; and of the sentiments 
ofArnauld, of Berkeley, and of Hume, concerning ideas. — He 
seems, himself, to have been sensible of this; for in his Essays 
on the Active Powers, published three years after the former, 
he observes, that " sentiment was wont to signify opinion or judg- ^ 
" ment of any kind; but of late, is appropriated to signify an 
" opinion or judgment, that strikes, and produces some agreea- ^ 
" ble or uneasy emotion." (P. 479. 4to edit.) 

Mr. Hume, on the other hand, sometimes employs (after the 
example of the French metaphysicians) sentiment as synonymous ^ 
with feeling; an use of the word quite unprecedented in our 7^ 
tongue. 

In ascertaining the propriety of our vernacular expressions, 
it is a rule with me, never to appeal from the practice of our 
own standard authors to etymological considerations, or to the 

* Essay on Truth, Part ii. c. i. sect 1. 



5 IS NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

use which is made, in other languages, either ancient or modem, 
of the corresponding derivatives from the same rooot. In the 
present instance, accordingly, I pay no regard to the definitions 
given of the word sentiment, in French dictionaries; although I 
readily acknowledge, that it was from that country we originally 
borrowed it: And I am much fortified in my doubts with respect 
to the competency of foreign tribunals to decide any such ques- 
tions, by the variety of senses attached to this very word, in the 
different languages of modern Europe. On this point I willingly 
borrow a few remarks from a very ingenious and judicious critic. 

'' Le mot sentim€7it, derive du primitif Latin sentire, a passe 
" dans les langues modernes, mais avec des nuances d*acception 
" paiticulieres a chacune d'elles. En Italien, sentimento exprime 
" deux idees differentes; 1. Topinion qu'on a sur un objet, ou sur 
" une question; 2. la faculte de sentir. En Anglois, sentiment 
" n*a que le premier de ces deux sens. En Espagnolj sentimiento 
" signifie souffrance^ acception que le mot primitif a quelquefois 
" en Latin. 

" En Fran9ois, sentiment a les deux acceptions de I'ltalien, mais 
" avec cette difference, que dans la derniere il a beaucoup d'ex- 
" tension. Non seulement il designe generalement en Frangois 
" toutes les affections de Fame, mais il exprime plus particuliere- 
" ment la passion de I'amour. En voici un example; son senti- 
" MENT est si jirofond que rien au monde ne fieut la distraire des 
" objets qid servent a le nourrir. Si I'on traduit cette phrase dans 
" toute autre langue, en conservant le mot sentiment^ on fera un 
" Gallicisme. On en fera egalement un, en employant ce mot 
"dans la traduction des phrases suivantes: c*est un hommea sen- 
" timent; voila du sentiment;// y a du sentiment dans cette 
^^ piece; il est tout dme, tout sentiment; — parce qu'il y est pris 
" dans une acception vague, pour tout ce qui tient a la faculte 
« de sentir. Aussi Sterne en a-t-il fait un en donnant a son 
" voyage le titre di^ sentimental; mot que les Francois n'ont pas 
" manque de reclamer, et de faire passer dans leur langue, parce 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 519 

"qu'il est parfaitement analogue a I'acception qu*ils ont donnee 
"au mot sentiment.*' — (Dissertation sur les Gallicismes, par M. 
Suard.) 

It does not appear to me that Sterne can be justly charged 
with a Gallicism, in the title which he has given to his book; the 
adjective ■sentimental alr!.o<?gh little used before his time, being 
strictly conformable in iis meaning to the true English import of 
the substantive oii which it is formed. On the contrary, I think, 
thai in adopting the adjective sentimental.^ as well as in the phrase 
homme a sentiment, the French have imitated the English idiom. 
In applying, indeed, the word sentiment to the passion of love, 
they must be allowed to have led the way: Nor do I know that 
their example has been yet followed by any good writer in this 
country. — M. Suard was probably misled, in this criticism ou 
Sterne, by Johnson's Dictionary. 

They who are aware of the frequent use of this word, which 
has been lately made by our moral writers, will not blan e me for 
the length of this note; more especially, when they consider what 
a source of misapprehension it has been between English and 
French philosophers. How oddly does the following sentence 
sound in our ears! " Les nouveaux philosophes veulent que la 
" couleur soit un sentiment de I'amc." 



NOTE (E), P. 107. 

The principal steps of Berkeley's reasoning, in support of his 
scheme of idealism^ are expressed in the following propositions, 
which are stated nearly in his own words. 

" We are percipient of nothing but our own perceptions and 
" ideas." — " It is evident to any one who takes a survey of the 
« objects of human knowledge, that they are either ideas actually 
" imprinted on the senses; or else such as are perceived by at- 
" tending to the passions and operations of the mind; or lastly, 



520 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

" ideas formed by help of memory and imagination, either com- 
^' pounding, dividing, or barely representing those originally per* 
" ceived in the foresaid ways." '< Light and colours, heat 

^/" and cold, extension and figure; in a word, the things we see 
" and feel, what are they but so many sensations, notions, ideas, 
« or impressions on the sense; and is it possible to separate, even 
"in thought, any of these from perception? For my own part, I 

^^ might as easily divide a thing from itself. As for our senses, 

" by them we have the knowledge only of our sensations, ideas, 

/ " or those things that are immediately perceived by sense, call 
"them what you will: But they do not inform us, that things 

, " exist without a mind, or unperceived — like to those which are 

" perceived. As there can be no notion or thought but 

" in a thinking being, so there can be no sensation, but in a sen- 
*' tient being; it is the act or feeling of a sentient being; its 
" very essence consists in being felt. Nothing can resemble a 
" sensation, but a similar sensation in the same, or in some other 
*^mind. To think that any quality in a thing inanimate can re- 
" semble a sensation is absurd, and a contradiction in terms." 

This argument of Berkeley is very clearly and concisely put 
by Reid. " If we have any knowledge of a material world, it must 
" be by the senses: but dy the senses ive have no knoiuledge^ but of 
" our sensations only; and our sensations, which are attributes of 
" Mhidj can have no resemblance to any qualities of a thing that 
" is inanimate." 

It is observed by Dr. Reid, that the only proposition in. this 
demonstration, which admits of doubt, is, that by our senses we 

' have the knowledge of our sensations only, and of nothing else. 
Grant this, and the conclusion is irresistible. — "For my own 
" part" (he adds) " I once believed this doctrine of ideas so firm- 
" ly, as to embrace the whole of Berkeley's system in conse- 
" quence of it; till finding some consequences to follow from it, 
" which gave me more uneasiness than the want of a material 
" world, it came into my mind, more than forty years ago, to put 

2 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 521 

*' the question, what evidence have I for this doctrine, that all 
" the objects of my knowledge are ideas in my own mind? From 
" that time to the present, I have been candidly and impartially, 
*'as I think, seeking for the evidence of this principle, but can 
<» find none, excepting the authority of philosophers." 

We are told, in the life of Dr. Berkeley, that, after the publi- 
cation of his book, he had an interview with Dr. Clarke; in the 
course of which, Clarke discovered a manifest unwillingness to 
enter into the discussion about the existence of matter, and was 
accused by Berkeley of a want of candour. — The story has every 
appearance of truth; for as Clarke, in common with his antago- 
nist, regarded the ideal theory as incontrovertible, it was perfectly 
impossible for him, with all his acuteness, to detect the flaw to 
which Berkeley's paradox owed its plausibility. 



NOTE (F), P. 107. 

In order to demonstrate the repugnance of the ideal theory to 
fact^ Dr. Reid observes, that in its fundamental assumption, it 
confounds our sensations and perceptions together;* overlooking 
altogether the sensations by which the primary qualities of matter 

* Sensation properly expresses that change in the state of the viindy which 
is produced by an impression upon an organ of sense; (of which chang-e 
we can conceive the mind to be conscious, without any knowledge of ex- 
ternal objects): Perception on the other hand, expresses the knov^ledge or 
the intimatio?is we obtain, by means of our sensations, concerning tlie 
qualities of matter; and, consequently, involves, in every instance, the no- 
tion of externality or outness, which It is necessary to exclude, as much as 
possible, from the thoughts, in order to seize the precise import of the 
wovd sensation. See Outlines of Moral Philosophy, § 14. (Edinburgh, 1808.) 

For a fuller illustration of this distinction, I must refer to Dr. Reid, A 
clear conception of it (as he has himself rennarked) is the key to all that 
he has written in opposition to the Berkeleian system. Priestley, through 
the whole of his strictures on Reid, studiously employs the two words us 
synonymous terms. 

3 U 



522 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

are made known to us. Berkeley s^.ys, that by the senses we have no 
/c?iowledg€ but of our sensations only; and Locke, that the fymmary 
qualities of body are resemblances of our sensations^ though the 
secondary are not. Now, upon this point we may venture to ap- 
peal to every man's consciousness. Can any person doubt, that 
he has clear notions of extension and oi figzire, which form the 
subjects of the proudest and most beautiful system of demonstra- 
ted truths, yet brought to light by human reason? Indeed, what 
notions can be mentioned, more definite and satisfactory than 
what we possess, of these two qualities? And what resemblance 
can either bear to the changes which take place in the state of a 
sentient being? That we have notions of external qualities which 
have no resemblance to our sensations, or to any thing of which 
the mind is conscious, is therefore a fact of which every man's 
experience affords the completest evidence; and to which it is 
not possible to oppose a single objection, but its incompatibility 
with the common philosophical theories concerning the origin 
of our knowledge. 

The idea of Extension (without having recourse to any other), 
furnishes, of itself, an exfierimentum crucis for the determination 
of this question. The argument which it affords against the truth 
of the ideal theory is very forcibly stated by Dr. Reid, in a pas- 
sage, the greater part of which I intended to have transcribed 
here, in order to excite the curiosity of my readers with respect 
to the work in which it is detailed at length. As I am prevented, 
however, from doing so by want of room, I must request such 
of them as have any relish for these speculations, to study with 
care the fifth and sixth sections of the fifth chapter of his Inquiry 
into the Human Mind; also the paragraph in the seventh section 
<of the same chapter, beginning with the words, <« This, I would 
" therefore humbly propose, as an exfierimentum crucis" Sec. 
They are not to be comprehended fully without a considerable 
effort of patient reflection; but they are within the reach of any 
person of plain understanding, who will submit to this trouble; 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 523 

and they lead to very important consequences in the philosophy 
of the human mind. 

After the long interval which has elasped since the first publi- 
cation of this book, I should despair of reviving any degree of 
attention to the subject, if I did not recollect the opposition and 
the neglect which all those truths have had, in the first instance, 
to encounter, which are now regarded as the great pillars of 
modern philosophy. — I was anxious, at the same time, to bring 
into immediate contrast the statement which was given by this 
author, fifty years ago, of the incompatibility of our ideas of ex- 
tension^Jigurc^ and motio7i, with the received systems concerning 
the sourcesof our knowledge; and the indistinct pointings towards 
the same conclusion, which have since appeared in the writings 
of Kant and others. The noise which this doctrine has made, in 
consequence of the mysterious veil under which they have dis- 
guised it, when compared with the public inattention to the sim- 
ple and luminous reasonings of Reid, affords one of the most 
remarkable instances I know, of that weak admiration, which 
the half-learned are always ready to bestow on whatever they find 
themselves unable to comprehend. But on these and some col- 
lateral topics, I shall have an opportunity of explaining myself 
more fully in a subsequent note. 



To those who take an interest in tracing the progress of phi- 
losophical speculation, it may not be unacceptable to know, that 
although Reid was indisputably the first who saw clearly the iiVi- 
portant consequences involved in the downfal of the ideal theory, 
yet various hints towards its refutation, may be collected from 
earlier writers. So far from considering this anticipation a^: 
having any tendency to lower his merits, I wish to point it out 
to my readers, as a proof of the sagacity with which he perceived 



524 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

the various and extensive applications to be made of a cdnclusioar 
which, in the hands of his predecessors, was altogether sterile and 
useless. My own conviction, at the same time, is, that the pas- 
sages I am now to quote, were either unknown to Dr. Reid, or 
had altogether escaped his recollection, when he wrote his In- 
quiry. They exhibit, in fact, nothing more than momentary 
glimpses of the truth, afforded by some casual light which im^ 
mediately disappeared, leaving the traveller to wander in the same 
darkness as before. 

The following sentence in Dr. Hutcheson's Treatise on the 
Passions, considering the period at which the author wrote, re» 
fleets the highest honour on his metaphysical acuteness; " Ex- 
" tension, figure, motion, and rest, seem to be more properly erfecs 
« accompanying the sensations of sight and touch, than the sensa- 
« tions of either of those senses.'* — It does not appear from any 
reference which he afterwards makes to this distinction, that he 
was at all aware of its value. 

The learned and judicious Crousaz, who wrote a little prior to 
Ilutcheson, expresses himself nearly to the same purpose; and 
even dwells on the distinction at some length. In the following 
passage, I have taken no other liberty with the original, but that 
of suppressing some superfluous words and clauses, with which 
the author has loaded his statement and obscured his meaning. 
The clauses, however, which I omit, and still more the preceding 
context, will satisfy any person who may take the trouble to exa- 
mine them, that although he seems to have had Reid's fundamen- 
tal principle fairly within his reach, he saw it too indistinctly to 
be able to trace its consequences, or even to convey its import 
very clearly to the minds of others. 

" When we would represent to ourselves something without us, 
" and which resembles a sensation, it is evident that we pursue a 
« mere chimera. A sensation can represent nothing but a sensa- 
<Hion: And sensation, being a species of thought, can represent 
" nothing which belongs to a subject incapable of thinking. It is 



.VOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 525 

•• not so with the objects of our perceptions. When I think of a 
*' tree, or of a triangle, I know the objects, to which I give these 
" names, to be different from my thoughts, and to have no resem- 
" blance to them.— 77^e /ac/ is wonderful, but it is not the less in- 
" contestable,^* 

In Baxter's Treatise on the Immateriality of the Soul, the same 
observation is not only repeated, but is employed expressly for the 
refutation of the Berkeleian system. It is, however, worthy of 
remark, that this ingenious writer has pushed his conclusion far- 
ther than he was warranted to do by his premises; and indeed 
farther than his own argument required. 

" If our ideas have no parts, and yet if we perceive parts, it is 
" plain \fQ perceive something more than our own perceptions. But 
" both these are certain: we are conscious that we perceive parts, 
'' when we look upon a house, a tree, a river, the dial-plate of a 
" clock or watch. This is a short and easy ivay of being certain 
" that so?nething exists without the mind.** — (V. II. p. 313.) 

It is evident, that the fact here stated, furnishes no positive proof 
of the existence of external objects. It only destroys the force of 
Berkeley's reasonings against the possibility of their existence, by 
its obvious incompatibility with the fundamental principle on 
which all these reasonings proceed. — The inference, therefore, 
which Baxter ought to have drawn was this; that by our sensa- 
tions we do receive notions of qualities which bear no resemblance 
to these sensations; and consequently, that Berkeley's reasonings 
are good for nothing, being founded on a false hypothesis. This 
is precisely Reid's argument; and it is somewhat curious that 
Baxter, after having got possession of the premises, was not aware 
of the important consequences to which they lead. 

Of all the writers, however, who touched upon this subject, prior 
to the publication of Reid's Inquiry, none seems to have had a 
clearer perception of the truth, or to have expressed it with greater 
precision, than D'Alembert. " It is doubtless" (he observes in one 
passage) " by the sense of touch we are enabled to distinguish 
"our own bodies from surrounding objects; but how doe5 it con- 



526 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATION^. 

" vey to us the notion of that continuity of parts in which consists 
" properly the notion of extension!. Here is a problem on which, 
*^ it appears to me, that philosophy is able to throw a very imper- 

" feet light. In a word, the sensation by means of which we 

" atrive at the knowledge of extension is, in its nature, as incom- 
« prehensible as extension itself." — (Elemens de la Philosophic, 
Article Metaphysique.) On a different occasion, the same writer 
has remarked, that, " as no relation whatever can be discovered 
" between a sensation in the mind, and the object by which it is 
" occasioned, or at least to which we refer it, there does not seem 
" to be a possibility of tracing, by dint of reasoning, any practical 
"passage from the one to the other." And hence he is led to as- 
cribe our belief of the existence of things external to " a species 
" of instinct;^* — " a principle" (he adds) " more sure in its ope- 
" ration than reason itself." 

In direct opposition to the fact which D'Alembert has thus not 
only admitted, but pointed out to his readers as involving a mys- 
tery not to be explained, it is astonishing to find him expressing, 
again and again, in different parts of his works, his complete ac- 
quiescence in Locke's doctrine, that all our ideas are derived from 
our sensations; and that it is impossible for us to think of any thing 
which has no resemblance to something previously known to us 
by our own consciousness. The remarks, accordingly, just quoted 
from him, are nowhere turned to any account in his subsequent 
reasonings. 

All these passages reflect light on Reid's philosophy, and afford 
evidence, that the difficulty on which he has laid so great stress, 
with respect to the transition made by the mind from its sensa- 
tions to a knowledge of the primary qualities of matter, is by no 
means (as Priestley and some others have asserted) the offspring 
of his own imagination. They prove, at the same time, that none 
of the authors from whom I have borrowed them, with the single 
exception of Baxter, have availed themselves of this difficulty to 
destroy the foundations of Berkeley's scheme of Idealismj and 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 527 

that Baxter himself was as unapprised as the others, of the exten- 
sive applications of which it is susceptible to various other ques- 
tions connected with the philosophy of the human mind. Tlje 
celebrated German professor, Emanuel Kant, seems at last to 
have got a glimpse of this, notwithstanding the scholastic fog 
through which he delights to view every object to which he turns 
his attention. As his writings, however, were of a much later date 
than those of Dr. Reid, they do not properly fall under our con- 
sideration in this note: And, at any rate, I must not now add to 
its length, by entering upon a topic of such extent and difficulty. 



NOTE (G), P. 107. 

The following strictures on Reid's reasonings against the ideJil 
theory occur in a work published by Dr. Priestley in 1774. 

" Before our author had rested so much upon this argument, 
" it behoved him, I think, to have examined the strength of it a 
" little more carefully than he seems to have done: for he appears 
" to me to have suffered himself to be misled in the very founda- 
" tion of it, merely by philosophers happening to call ideas the 
^^ images of external things; as if this was not knovjn to be ajigu- 
'< rative exfiression, denoting, not that the actual shapes of things 
" were delineated in the brain, or upon the mind, but only that 
" impressions of some kind or other were conveyed to the mind 
" by means of the organs of sense and their corresponding nerves, 
" and that between these impressions and the sensations existing 
" in the mind, there is a real and necessary, though at present au 
" unknown connection." 

To those who have perused the metaphysical writings of Berke- 
ley and of Hume, the foregoing passage cannot fail to appear 
much too ludicrous to deserve a serious answer. Do not all the 
reasonings which have been deduced from Locke's philosophy 
against the independent existence of the material world hinge on 



528 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

that very principle which Priestley affects to consider as merely 
an accidental mode of speaking, never meant to be understood 
literally? Where did he learn that the philosophers who haVe 
" happened to call ideas the images of external things," employed 
this term " as a figurative expression, denoting, not that the ac' 
" tual shapes of things were delineated in the brain or upon the 
" mind, but only, that impressions of some kind or other were 
*^ conveyed to the mind by means of the org9.ns of sense and their 
" corresponding nerves?" Has not Mr. Locke expressly told us, 
that " the ideas of primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of 
" them, and that ihtiT fiatterns do really exist in the bodies them- 
** selves; but that the ideas produced in us by secondary qualities 
" have no resemblance of them at all?"* And did not Mr. Hume 
understand this doctrine of Locke in the most strict and literal 
meaning of the words, when he stated, as one of its necessary 
consequences, " That the mind either is no substance, or that it 
"is an extended and divisible substance; because tht ideas of ex- 
« tension cannot be in a subject which is indivisible and unex- 
<'tended."t 

* Vol. I. p. 99, 13th edit, of his Essays. 

\ "The most vulgar philosophy informs us, that no external object can 
** make itself known to the mind immediately, and without the interposi- 
**tion of an image or perception. That table, which just now appears to 
*'me, is only a perception, and all its qualities are qualities of a percep- 
*'tion. Now, the most obvious of all its qualities is extension. The percep- 
" tion consists of parts- These parts are so situated, as to afford us the 
*' notion of distance and contiguity; of length, breadth, and thickness. The 
"termination of these three dimensions is what we call figure. This figure 
" is moveable, separable, and divisible. Mobility and separability are 
*'the distinguishing properties of extended objects. And to cut short all 
"disputes, the very idea of extension is co/)iW from nothing but an impres- 
*«sion, and consequently must perfectly agree to it. To say the idea of ex- 
** tension ag-rees to any thmg, is to say it is extended." 

"The free-thinker may now triumph in his turn; and having found there 
«'are impressions and ideas really extended, may ask his antagonists, how 
" they can incorporate a simple and indivisible subject with an extended 
"'perception?"— (Treatise of Human Nature, VoL I. pp. 416, 4ir.) 

9 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. S20 

But why should I refer, on this occasion, to Hume or to Locke, 
when quotations to the very same purpose are furnished by vari- 
ous writers of a much later date? The following is from a book 
published in 1782. 

" It will not be disputed, but that sensations or ideas properly 
■" exist in the 50m/, 'because it could not otherwise retain them so 
" as to continue to perceive and think after its separation from 
" the body. Now, whatever ideas are in themselves, they are evi- 
^'dently produced by external objects, and must therefore corres- 
" pond to them; and since many of the objects or archetypes of 
" ideas are divisible, it necessarily follows, that the ideas them- 
" selves are divisible also. The idea of a man^ for instance, could 
« in no sense correspond to a man, which is the archetype of it, 

"and THEREFORE COULD NOT BE THE IDEA OF \ MAN, if it did 

'^ not consist of the ideas of his head^ armsy trunks legs^ Sec. It 
"therefore consists of parts, and consequently, is divisible. And 
^' how is it possible, that a thing (be the nature of it what it may) 
" that is divisible, should be contained in a substance, be the na- 
" ture of it likewise what it may, that is indivisible? 

" If the archetypes of ideas have extension, the ideas exfiressivt. 
^' of them must have extension likewise; and therefore the mind, 
" in which they exist, whether it be material or immaterial, must 
<' have extension also." 

It will surprise and amuse some of my readers, as a specimen 
of the precipitation and inconsistency of Dr. Priestley, v^hen they 
learn, that the passage just quoted, is extracted from his disquisi- 
tions on matter and sjiirit, published eight years after his attack on 
Dr. Reid. No form of words could have conveyed a more un- 
qualified sanction than he has here given to the old hypothesis 
concerning ideas; — a hypothesis which he had before asserted to 
have been never considered by any philosopher, but as a figurative 
mode of expression; and which, when viewed in the light of a 
theory, he had represented as an absurdity too palpable to deserve 
a serious refutation. 

3 X 



y 



530 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The ignorance which Priestley, and his associates of the Hart- 
leian school, have discovered of the history of a branch of philo- 
sophy which they have presumed to decide upon with so much 
dogmatism, renders it necessary for me to remark once more? 
in this place, that the ideas of Des Cartes, and of his successors 
^, were little else (at least so far as fiercefition is concerned) than 
a new name for the sfiecies of the schoolmen; — the various am- 
biguities connected with the word idea., having probably contri- 
buted not a little to shelter the doctrine, in its more modern dress, 
against those objections to which it must, at a much earlier pe- 
riod, have appeared to be liable, if the old peripatetic phraseology 
had been retained. 

. The following passage from Hobbes, while it demonstrates 
the prevalence, at no very distant period, in its most absurd form, 
of the dogma which Reid has combated, may serve to illustrate, 
at the same time, the inefficacy of reason and common sense, 
when opposed to an established prejudice. 

" The Philosophy Schools, through all the Universities of 
" Christendom, grounded upon certain texts of Aristotle, teach, 
*' that, for the cause of i/mon, the thing seen sendeth forth, on 
" every side, a visible sfiecies, (in English,) a visible shew, afifiari- 
''Hion, or asjiect, or a being seen; tho, receiving whereof into the 
*.' eye, is seeing. And for the cause of hearing, that the thing 
" heard sendeth forth an audible sjiecies, that is, an audible aspect^ 
" or audible being seen; which entering at the ear, maketh hear- 
*• ing. Nay, for the cause of understanding, also, they say the 
" thing understood sendeth forth an intelligible s/iecies, that is, 
" an iiitelligible being seen; which coming into the understanding 
« makes us understand." — " I say not this" (continues Hobbes) 
" as disapproving of the use of Universities, but because, as I am 
" to speak hereafter of their office in a commonwealth, I must 
*' let you see, on all occasions, by the way, what things should 
" be amended in them, amongst which, the frequency of insig- 
^'mficant speech is owe. "—(Of Man, Part I. Chap, i.) 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 531 

About one hundred and fifty years ago, when the dreams of the 
cloister were beginnmgto vanish before the dawnin;^ light of ex- 
perimental science, the arguments which the schoolmen were 
obliged to have recourse to in their own defence, afford a com- 
mentary on the real import of their dogmas, which we should 
search for in vain in the publications of those ages when they were 
regarded as oracles of truth, which it was the business of the philo- 
sopher not to dispute, but to unriddle. With this view, I shall extract 
a few remarks from a vindication of the Aristotelian doctrines, in 
opposition to some discourses of Sir Kenelm Digby, by an author 
of considerable celebrity among his contemporaries; but who is 
indebted chiefly for the small portion of fame, which he now en- 
joys, to a couplet of Hudibras. The aim of the reasonings which 
I am to quote is to shew, as the author himself informs us, that 
objects ivork not materially^ but intentionally on the sense; and not- 
withstanding the buflibonery blended with them, they may be re- 
garded as an authentic exposition of the scholastic opinion on 
this memorable question; a question which Alexander Ross ap- 
pears to have studied as carefully, and as successfully, as any of 
the writers who have since undertaken the task of resolving it. 

" The atoms are your sanctuary to which you fly upon all oc- 
" casions. For you will now have these material parts of bodies 
<'work upon the outward organs of the senses, and, passing 
" through them, mingle themselves with the spirits, and so to 
" the brain. These little parts must needs get in at the doors of 
" our bodies, and mingle themselves with the spirits in the nerves, 
"and, of necessity, must make some motion in the brain. Doubt- 
« less, if this be true, there must needs be an incredible motion 
*Vin the brain; for, if the atoms of two armies fighting should 
" rush into your brain by the eye, they will make a greater mo- 
'' tion than Minerva did in Jupiter's brain. You would call for a 
" Vulcan to cleave your head, and let out those armed men, who 
'< would cause a greater struggle in your head, than the twins Tiid 
" in Rebecca's womb: For I do not think these little myrmidons 



532 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

" would lie so quiet in your brain as the Grecians did in the I'ro- 
« jan horse. But, if the material atoms of the object pierce the 
'^ organ; as, for example, of a horse; then tell us, how many atoms 
" must meet to make up a little horse; and how can that horsej 
" being bridled and saddled, pierce your eye without hurting it, 
" especially if you should see mounted on his back such a gallant 
"as Sr. George, armed with a long sharp lance; or Bellerophon 
" on Pegasus? And if a thousand eyes should look at one time 
<Uipon that object, will it not be much lessened, by losing so 
" many atoms and parts, as enter into so many eyes? — Or can 
" the object multiply itself by diminution, as the five loaves did 
*'in the gospel? — -Or, suppose you should see as many horses at. 
" a time as were in Xerxes his army, would there be stable-room 
** enough in your brain to contain them all? — Or, if you should 
" see a thousand horses, one after another, doth the coming in 
"of the latter drive out the former? — Which way do they come 
*' out? — The same way they went in? — Or some other way? — Or 
"do they stable altogether there? — -Or do they die in the brain?— 
" Will they not perish the brain, and poison your optic spirits, 
" with which you say they are mingled? — Or, suppose you 
" should see, in a looking-glass, a horse; doth the atoms of that 
" horse pierce first the glass to get in, and then break through 
"the glass again to get into your eye? Sure, if this be your new 
^^/ihilosofihy, you are likely to have but few sectaries oi these 
" deambulatory wise men, whom you call vulgar philosophers.* 
" Is it not easier, and more consonant to reason, that the imag^ 
" or refiresentation of the object be received into the sense, which 
" reception we call sensation^ than to say, that the very material 
(•^ parts which you call atoms, should pierce the organ? for then 
" the same object must be both one and many; and so, if all the 
" inhabitants of either hemisphere should look at once on the 
" moon, there must be as many moons as beholders. 

* Compare this with Dr. Beattie's attempts at pleasantry on the very 
theory which Alexander Ross considered as indisputable. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 533 

" Again, we distinguish that which you confound, to wit, first, 
" the organ which is called scnsorium: secondly, the sensitive fa- 
" culty, which resides in the spirits: thirdly, the act of sensation^ 
** which is caused by the object: fourthly, the object itself which 
" causeth sensation, but not the sense or faculty itself: fifthly, the 
" s/iecies which is the iinage of the object: sixthly, the medium.^ 
"which is air, water, &c.: seventhly, the sensitive soul, actuating 
"the organ, and in it judging and perceiving the object, which 
" diffuses and sends its s/iecies, or spiritual and intentional qualities, 
" both into the medium and the sensorium; and this is no more 
*' imjiossible, than for the ivax to receive the impressions or figure 
" of the seal, without any of its matter,^** 

From this precious relic of scholastic subtilty, we learn, 
first, that the author conceived the species by means of which 
perception is obtained to be really images or representationa 
of external objects; second, that he conceived these species 
to be altogether unembodied; third, that the chief ground of dif- 
ference between him and his opponent consisted in this, that 
while the one supposed the species to be immaterial, the other 
fancied them to be composed of atoms which enter by the organs 
of sense, and " make some motion in the brain." In this respect, 
Sir Kenelm Digby's hypothesis seems to be merely a revival of 
the old Epicurean doctrine with respect to the tenuia reruni simu- 
lacra; which Lucretius plainly considered as images ov resemblan- 
ces of sensible qualities; perfectly analogous to the species of the 
peripatetics in every particular but this, that they were supposed 
to partake of the matter as well as of the ybrm of their respective 
archetypes. 

In the present stfite of science, when the phraseology of the 
schoolmen is universally laid aside; -and more especially, since 
the time that the absurdity of their theory of perception has been 
so fully exposed by Dr. Reid, it is very easy to argue from this 

* The Philosophical Touch-stone, or Observations upon Sir Kenelm 
Digby's Discourses of the Nature of Bodies, and oftjie Rational Soul. By 
Alexander Ross, London, 164^? 



I 



534 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 

absurdity against the probability that the theory was ever matter 
of general and serious belief. It is easy, for example, to ask what 
notion it was possible to annex to the words image or representa- 
tion^ when applied to the sensible species, by which we perceive 
hardness or softness, roughness or smoothness, heat or cold? 
The question is surely a very pertinent one, and, to all appear- 
ance, sufficiently obvious; but it does not therefore follow, that 
it was ever asked, or that it would have produced much impres- 
sion, if it had been asked, during the scholastic ages. Such is 
the influence of words upon the most acute understandings, that 
when the language of a sect has once acquired a systematical 
coherence and consistency, the imposing plausibility of the dress 
in v/hich their doctrines are exhibited, is not only likely to draw 
a veil, impenetrable to most eyes, over many of the inconsisten- 
cies of thought which they may involve, but to give a dexterous 
advocate infinite advantages in defending and vindicating these 

inconsistencies, if they should be brought under discussion ■ 

When, on the other hand, this technical language has been sup- 
planted by a different phraseology, and when the particular dog- 
Mas which it was employed to support come to be examined in 
separ-ated and unconnected detail, error and absurdity carry along 
with them the materials of their own refutation; and the myste- 
rious garb, under which they formerly escaped detection, serves 
only to expose them to additional ridicule. Such has, in fact, 
^een the case with the scholastic theory of perception, which, after 
maintaining its ground, without any dispute, during a succession 
of centuries, is now represented as an extravagance of too great 
a magnitude, to have been ever understood by its abbettors in' the 
literal sense which their words convey. It would be happy for 
science, if some of those who have lately expressed themselves 
in this manner, did not conceal from superficial readers, and 
probably from themselves also, under a different, but equally 
hypothetical form of words, the very same fundamental mistake 
which revolts their judgment so strongly, when presented to 
tl-iem in terms to which they have not been accustomed. . 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATION^. 535 

The theory of Digby, too, when contrasted with that of his 
antagonist, is a historical document of considerable importance; 
exhibiting a specimen of the first attacks made on the system of 
the schoolmen, by the partizans of the new philosophy. The 
substitution of material images, instead of the ambiguous and 
mysterious 6/z6'aV6' of Aristotle, by forcing the peripatetics to speak 
out their meaning a little more explicitly, did more to bring them 
into discredit, than the most acute and conclusive arguments of 

their opponents. Much about the same time, Dr. Hooke 

expressed himself not less decidedly about the materiality of ideas 
or images; employing a mode of speaking on this subject not 
very unlike that of Dr. Darwin. Priestley's language is some- 
what different from this, being faithfully modelled after the hypo- 
thesis of his master. Dr. Hartley. <' If (says he) " as Hartley 
" supposes, the nerves and brain be a vibrating substance, all sen^ 
" sati oris and ideas are vibrations in that substance; and all that is 
"properly unkno^vn in the business, is the power of the mind to 
" perceive or be affected with these vibrations." In what manner 
Dr. Priestley would have reconciled this inference with what I have 
already quoted from him with respect to the idea of extension, I 
presume not to conjecture. 

As a farther illustration of the notions which were prevalent 
with respect to the nature of sensible sfiecies^ and that little more 
than a century ago, I shall quote a passage from a treatise, which, 
notwithstanding its unpromising subject, was evidently the work 
of an author, — -deeply tainted, indeed, with the prejudices of his 
country and of his age, but of no inconsiderable learning and in- 
genuity. The treatise I allude to is entitled, "AEYTEPOSKOniAj 
" or a Brief Discourse concerning the Second Sight, commonly 
" so called. By the Rev. Mr. John Frazer, deceased, late minis- 
" ter of Tirrie and Coll, and Dean of the Isles." (Edinburgh, 
printed by Mr. Andrew Symson, 1707.) 

The passage seems to me to deserve preservation, as a memo- 
mi of the state of the Scotish philosophy towards the end of the 



536 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

seventeenth century; and I willingly give it a place here, as the 
book from which it is extracted is not likely to fall in the way of 
many of my readers. 

After mentioning a variety of anecdotes, concerning the illu- 
sions of imagination to which hypochondriacal persons are liable, 
when in a state of solitude, the author proceeds thus: — 

" If you will ask, how cometh this to pass? Take notice of the 
" following method, which I humbly offer to your consideration. 
" Advert, in the first place, that visible ideas or s/iecies* are emit- 
" ted from every visible object to the organ of the eye, represent- 
« ing the figure and colour of the object, and bearing along with 
" it the proportion of the distance; for sure, the objects enter nof 
" the eye, nor the interjacent track of ground. And a third thing; 
" different from the eye and the object, and the distant ground, 
" must inform the eye. The sfiecics are conveyed to the brain by • 
"the optic nerve, and are laid up in the magazine of the memory; 
*< otherwise, we should not remember the object any longer than 
" it is in oSr presence, and a remembering of those objects is 
" nothing else but the fancy's receiving, or more properly, the 
"*"* soul of man by the fancy receiving, these intentional s fie cies for- 
" merly received from the visible object into the organ of the eye, 
" and recondited into the seat of the memory. Now, when the 
" brain is in a serene temper, these species are in their integrity, 
<' and keep their rank and file as they were received; but when 
*< the brain is filled with gross and flatuous vapours, and the spi- 
" rits and humours enraged, these ideas are sometimes multiplied, 
" sometimes magnified, sometimes misplaced, sometimes con- 
" founded by other species of different objects, &c. Sec. and this 
"deception is not only incident to the fancy, but even to the 
" external senses, particularly the seeing and hearing. For the 
"TJZ5W5, or seeing, is nothing else but the transition of the inten- 
" tional species through the crystalline humour to the retiform 

* Inconsequence of the growing influence of die Cartesian philosophy, 
these words were then beginning to be regarded as synonymous. 

2 



NOTES AND ILLrSTRATIONS. 537 

^ coat of the eye, and judged by the common sense, and conveyed 
" by the optic nerve to the fancy." 

* * * * 

" Now, if these species formerly received and laid up in the 
<^ brain, will be reversed back from the same to the retiform coat 
" and crystalline humour as formerly, there is, in effect, a lively 
" seeing and perception of the object represented by these spe- 
" cies, as if de novo the object had been placed before the eye; 
*' for the organ of the eye had no more of it before than now it 
"has. Just so with the hearing-: it is nothing else but the receiv- 
*' ing of the audible species to that part of the ear that is accom- 
" modated for hearing; so that when the species are retracted 
" from the brain to their proper organs (for example, the ear 
" and the eye), hearing and seeing are perfected, as if the objects 
" had been present to influence the organ de novo. And it is not 
" to be thought that this is a singular opinion. For Cardanus, an 
" eminent author of great and universal reading and experience, 
^ maintains this reversion of the sfiecies, and attributes his own 
'' vision of trees, wild-beasts, men, cities, and instructed battles, 
*' musical and martial instruments, from the fourth to the seventh 
" year of his age, to the species of the objects he had seen for- 
"merly, now retracted to the organ of the eye; and cites Aver- 
" roes, an author of greater renown, for the same opinion." (See 
Cardanus dc Subtilitate reriim, p. 301.) 

<^ And it seems truly to be founded upon relevant grounds. I 
" have observed a sick person that complained of great pain and 
" molestation in his head, and particularly of piping and sweet 
" singing in his ears; which seems to have been caused by the 
« species of piping and singing which he had formerly heard; but 
" were now, through the plethory of his head, forced out of the 
" brain to the organ of the ear, through the same nerve by which 
" they were received formerly; and why may not the same befal 
" the visible species as well as the audible? which seems to be 
" confirmed by Uvis optic experiment: Take a sheet of painted 



538 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"paper, and fix it in your window, looking- stedfastiy to it fm'-a 
"considerable time; then close your eyes very strait, and open 
" your eyes suddenly, you will see the paintings almost as lively 
" as they were in the painted sheet, with the lively colours. This 
" compression of the eyes, by consent causes a compression of 
" the whole brain, vv^hich forces back the visible sfiecies of the 
" painted sheet to the organ of the eye through the optic nervcj 
"which will presently evanish if the reflectant did not help to 
" preserve them. You may see then how much of these repre- 
" sentations may be within ourselves, abstracting from any ex- 
" ternal agent or object, without the eye to influence the same." 
Were it not for the credulity displayed by Mr. Frazer, in va- 
rious parts of his book, one would almost be tempted to consider 
the foregoing theory as the effort of a superior mind combating 
the superstitious prejudices of his age, with such weapons as the 
erroneous philosophy of that age could supply. Perhaps the spirit 
of the times did not allow him to carry his scepticism farther 
than he did. A Lord President of our Supreme Court in Scot- 
land (one of the most eminent and accomplished men whom this 
country has produced) is said to have been an advocate for this 
article of popular faith more than fifty years afterwards. 



NOTE (H), P. 114. 

In the passage from Locke, quoted in the foot-note, p. 1 1 3, a 
hint is given (very unworthy of his good sense) towards a new 
theory of the creation of matter. It is a remarkable circumstance, 
that a theory on the same subject was suggested to l^riestley by 
certain speculations of his own, approaching very nearly to the 
doctrines of Boscovich; a coincidence which strikes me as a strong 
additional presumption in favour of that interpretation which I 
have given to Locke's words. 

" I will add in this place, though it will be considered more fully 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 539 

" hereafter, that this supposition of matter having (besides exten- 
" sion) no other properties but those of attraction and repulsion, 
"greatly relieves the difficulty which attends the supposition of 
" the creation of it out of nothings and also the continual moving 
" of it, by a being who has hitherto been supposed to have no 
" common property with it. For, according to this hypothesis, 
" both the creating mind, and the created substance, are equally 
** destitute of solidity or imjiene tr ability ; so that there can be no 
« difficulty whatever in supposing, that the latter may have been 
"the offspring of the former.'*— Disquisitions on Matter and 
Spirit, Vol. I. p. 23. (Birmingham, 1782.) 



NOTE (I), P. 135. 

Notwithstanding the apology which I have offered for the word 
instinct^ as it has been sometimes employed by writers on the 
Human Mind, I am perfectly sensible that it has been used, on 
various occasions, everi by our most profound reasoners, with too 
great a degree of latitude. Examples of this might be produced, 
both from Mr. Hume and Mr. Smith; but I shall confine myself, 
in this note, to a passage from Dr. Reid (by whose phraseology I 
was led to introduce the subject at present) in which he gives the 
name oi instinct to the sudden effort we make to recover our ba- 
lance, when in danger of falling; and to certain other instantaneous 
exertions which we make for our own preservation, in circum^ 
stances of unexpected danger.— (See his Essays on the Active 
Powers of Man, p. 1 74. 4to edit.) 

In this particular instance, I agree perfectly (excepting in one 
single point) with the following very judicious remarks long ago 
made by Gravesande: 

" II y a quelque chose d'admirable dansle moy en ordinaire dont 
" les homraes se servent, pour s'empecher de tomber: car dans le 
" terns que, par quelque mouvemerit,le poids du corps s'augmente 



540 NOTES AND ILLUSTRx\TIGNS. 

" d'un cote, un autre mouvement retablit I'.Qquilibjt'e tjans Tinstaiit. 
'' On attribue communement la chose siun instinct naturel, quoi- 
" qu'il faille necessairement Tattribuer a un art perfectionne par 
" rexercice. 

" Les enfans ignorent absolument cet art dans ies premieres 
" annees de leur vie; ils Tapprennent peu a peti, et s'y perfec- 
"tionnent, parce qu'ils ont con tin uellement occasion de s'y exer- 
" cer; exercice qui, dans la suite, n'exige presque plus aucune 
"attention de leur part; tout comme un musicien remue les 
" doigts, suivant les regies de i'art, pendant qu'il apper^oit a peine 
" qu*il y fasse la moindre attention."— (Oeuvres Philosophiques 
de M. *SGravesande, p. 121. Seconde Partie. Amsterdam, 1774.) 

The only thing I am disposed to object to in this extract, is 
that clause where the author ascribes the effort in question to an 
art. Is it not manifestly as wide of the truth to refer it to this 
source as to pure instinct? 

The word art implies intelligence; the perception of an end, 
and the choice of means. But where is there any appearance of 
either, in an operation common to the whole species (not ex- 
cluding the idiot and the insane); — and which is practised as suc- 
cessfully by the brutes, as by those who are possessed of reason. 

I intend to propose some modifications of the usual modes of 
speaking concerning this class of phenomena, when I come to 
contrast the faculties of Man with those of the lower animals. 



NOTE (K), P. 140. 

Want of room obliges me to omit, at present, the illustrations 
destined for this note; and to refer to some remarks on secondary 
qualities, in the Philosophy of the Human Mind. See note (P), at 
the end of that work; where I have attempted to explain the re- 
ference we make of the sensation of colour, to the external object; 
the only difficulty which the subject seems to me to present, and 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 54 X 

oJ; which neither Dr. Reid nor Mr. Smith have been sufficiently- 
aware. (Sec Reid's Inquiry into the Human Mind; and the Essay- 
on the External Senses, in Mr. Smith's Posthumous Work.) Both 
of these writers have, in my opinion, been led to undervalue this 
part of the Cartesian Philosophy, by the equivocal use made in 
the common statements of it, of the names of secondary qualities; 
a circumstance which had long before been ably commented on by 
Malebranche. — D'Alembert saw the difficulty in all its extent, 
when he observed (speaking of the sensation of colour): " Rien 
"n'est peut-etre plus extraordinaire dans les operations de notre 
"ame, que de la voir transporter hors d'elle-meme et etendre, 
" pour ainsi dire, ses sensations sur une substance a laqueile elles 
" ne peuvent appa. tenir." 

Berkeley has made a dexterous and amusing use of this very 
curious mental phenomenon, to prove that his scheme of idealism 
was perfectly consonant to the common apprehensions of man- 
kind. 

" Perhaps, upon a strict inquiry, we shall not find, that even 
«> those who from their birth have grown up in a continued habit 
" of seeing, are irrecoverably prejudiced on the other side, to wit, 
" in thinking what they see to be at a distance from them. For at 
« this time it seems agreed on all hands, by those who have had 
<« any thoughts of that matter, that colours^ which "are the proper 
« and immediate objects of sight, are not without the mind. But 
« then it will be said, by sight we have also the ideas of extension, 
<« and figure, and motion; all which may well be thought without^ 
« and at some distances from the mind, though colour should not. 
« In answer to this, I appeal to any man's experience, whether the 
« visible extension of any object doth not appear as near to him as 
" the colour of that object; nay, whether they do not both seem to 
" be in the very same place. Is not the extension we see coloured, 
« and is it possible for us, so much as in thought, to separate and 
<« abstract colour from extension? Now, where the extension is, 
"there surely is the figure, and there the motion too.— I speak of 



542 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATiaNS. 

<Uhose which are perceived by sight." — (Essay towards a New 
Theory of Vision, p. 255.) 



NOTE (L), P. 144. 

I intended to have introduced here, some doubts and queries 
with respect to the origin, or rather to the history of the notion of 
Extension; not with any viev/ to an explanation of a fact which I 
consider, with the eminent philosophers referred to in the text, 
as altogether unaccountable; but to direct the attention of my 
readers to a more accurate examination than has been hitherto 
attempted, of the occasions on which this notion or idea is at first 
formed by the mind. Whatever light can be thrown on this very 
obscure subject may be regarded as a valuable accession to the 
natural history of the human understanding. 

It was long ago remarked by Dr. Reid, (and indeed by other 
writers of a still earlier date) that to account for the idea of Ex- 
tension by the motion of the hand^ is a paralogism, as this supposes 
a firevious knowledge of the existence of our own bodies. 

Condillac does not appear to have been sufficiently aware of 
this; nor even that most acute and profound philosopher, the late 
Mr. Smith. In his Essay on the External Senses (published in 
his posthumous volume), he all along supposes the mind in pos- 
session of the idea for the origin of which he is attempting to 
account. How do we get the notion of what Mr. Smith calls ex- 
ternality^ and Berkeley outness? Is not this only a particular mo- 
dification of the idea of extension? 

The same remark may be applied to some late speculations on 
this subject, by M. Destutt-Tracy. They are evidently the result 
of great depth and refinement of thought; but, like those of Mr. 
Smith, they will be found, on an accurate examination, to involve 
what logicians call a jietitio firincijiii. 

I am strongly inclined, at the same time, to think, that the idea 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 543 

«f extension involves the idea of motion; or to express myself 
more explicitly, that our ^rst notions of extension are acquired 
by the effort of moving the hands over the surfaces of bodies, ami 
by the effort of moving our own bo<Ues from place to place. The 
reference which Smith and Destutt-Tracy, as well as many ear- 
lier inquirers have made to the motion of the hand^ in their attempts 
to clear up this mystery, furnishes a strong presumption, that 
motion is somehow or other concerned in the business. I differ 
from them only in this: that whereas they seem to have considered 
their theory as affording some explanation of the origin of the 
^dea, to me it appears, if well-founded, to exhibit this problem in 
a form still more manifestly insolvable than that in which it is 
commonly viewed. 

From the following query of Berkeley's, it may be inferred 
what his opinion was on the point in question. " Whether it be 
" possible, that we should have had an idea or notion of Extension 
" prior to Motion? Or whether, if a man had never perceived Mo- 
"tion, he would ever have known or conceived one thing to be 
" distant from another?'* 

To this query I have already said, that I am disposed to reply 
in the negative; although, in doing so, I would be understood to 
express myself with the greatest possible diffidence. One obser- 
vation, however, I may add, without the slightest hesitation, that 
if the idea of Extension presupposes that of motion, it must, of 
necessity, presuppose also that of Time. 

The prosecution of this last remark has led me into some spe- 
culations, which appear to myself to be interesting; but to which, 
I find it impossible to give a place in this volume. 



NOTE (M), P. 156. 

^' Tous les systemes possibles sur la generation des idees^ peu- 
*^' vent etre rappeles quant a leur princifie fondamentale-^ a cette 



544 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS: 

" simple alternative; ou toutes nos idees ont leur origine dans iea 
" impressions des sens; on 11 y a des idees qui n'ont point leur 
*' origine dans ces impressions, et par consequent qui sont pla- 
" cees dans Tame immediatement, et qui lui appartiennent ett 
" vertu de sa seule nature. 

" Ainsi les opinions des philosophes anciens ou modernes sur 
^' la generation des idees, se pla^eront d'eiles meme sur deux 
" lignes opposees; celles des philosophes qui ont adopte le prin- 
^^ cipe, nihil est in intellectu quin firiusfuerit in sensu; celles des 
" philosophes qui ont cru aux idees innees, ou inherentes a Tin- 
^^ telligence/'—De la Generation des Connoissances Humaines^ 
pp. 8 et 9. (A Berlin, ISm.) 



NOTE (N), P. 160. 

I have substituted the words consciousness and fiercefition^ in- 
stead of the sensation and rejiection of Locke, for two reasons: 
1. Because sensation does not, in strict philosophical propriety, or, 
at least, not in a manner quite unequivocal, express the meaning 
which Locke intended to convey; the knowledge, to wit, which we 
obtain by means of our senses, of the qualities of matter: 2. Be- 
cause rejiection cannot, according to Locke's own use of the 
term, be contrasted either with sensation or jiercejition; inasmuch 
as it denotes an operation of the intellect^ directing its attention 
10 the subjects of consciousness; and bearing to that power the 
same relation in which observation stands to perception, 

I must own, at the same time, that I could never assent en- 
tirely to the justness of the following criticism on Locke's clas- 
sification, which occurs in the conclusion of Dr. Reid's Inquiry 
hito the Human Mind. " The division of our notions into ideas 
" of sensation, and ideas of reflection, is contrary to all rules of 
" Logic; because the second member of the division includes the 
^: first. For, can we form clear and just notions of our sensations 

2 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 545 

," any other way than by reflection? Surely we cannot. Sensation 
*' is an operation of the mind of which we are conscious; and we 
" get the notion of sensation by reflecting upon that which we 
" are conscious of." 

That this criticism would have been perfectly just, if Locke 
had used the words sensation and reflection^ in the definite and 
precise acceptations invariably annexed to them in Reid's writ- 
ings, must undoubtedly be granted. Nay, I am inclined to think, 
that it applies nearly to Locke's own opinion, when interpreted 
according to some subsequent applications which he himself has 
made of it; and which, by resolving every thing into the evi- 
dence of consciousness, have an obvious tendency to confound 
our sensations and our perceptions together. But, in proposing 
this classification, in the beginning of his Essay, there can be no 
doubt, that Locke meant by sensation what Reid csiWs /iercepiio7i; 
and therefore, to those who have not studied, with more than or- 
dinary care, the whole of Locke's system, it is not surprising that 
Reid should have the appearance of availing himself of a verbal 
ambiguity to gain an undue and uncandid advantage over his il- 
lustrious predecessor. — (See Priestley's Remarks on this subject 
in his Examination of Reid.) 

Dr. Reid's criticism, too, on Locke's trespass against the rules 
of logical division is, I think, too severe; and derives its plausi- 
bility from the ambiguity of the word rcjiectiony which Locke, in 
this instance, as well as in many others, employs as synonymous 
with consciousness.* It is for this reason, that I have substituted 
the latter word instead of the former, as expressing Locke's 
meaning with greater precision and clearness. 

When Locke's statement is thus interpreted, it does not seem 

* This ambiguity in the term reflection is particularly taken notice of in 
Dr Reid's essays on the intellectual poiuers, *' Reflection ought to be dis- 
'* tinguished from consciousness, with which it is too often confounded, 
" even by Locke. All men are conscious of the operations of their own 
*' minds, at all times, while they are awake; but there a^e few who reflect 
*' upon them, or make them objects of thought." — P. 60. 4to edit. 

3Z 



546 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

to merit, in all its extent^ the censure which Reid has bestowedw 
on it. The account which it gives, indeed, of the origin of our 
ideas, is extremely incomfilete; but it cannot be said that one 
member of his division includes the other; the first relating ex- 
clusively to the properties of matter, and the second exclusively 
to the internal phenomena of mind. 

I grant, upon the other hand, that if, with Locke's statement, 
we combine all the subsequent reasonings in his essay, Dr.Reid*s 
criticism is not so wide of the mark; for I have already endea- 
voured to shew, that some of his favourite doctrines involve, as a 
necessary consequence, that consciousness is the sole and exclu- 
sive source of all our knowledge. But this is merely an argumen- 
turn ad hominem; not a proof, that the division would have been 
faulty, if detached from the speculations which afterwards occur. 
Nor would it have been even a correct enunciation of the error 
on which this argument turns, to say, that the second member of 
the division included the first; — the first and second members, 
according to that interpretation, being completely identified. 



NOTE (O), P. 193. 

Mr. Locke himself prepared the way for Mr. Tooke's re- 
searches, by the following observations, of which, however, I do 
not recollect that any notice is taken in the Diversions ofPurtey. 
" It may also lead us a little towards the original of all our no- 
» tions and knowledge, if we remark how great a dependence 
" our words have on common sensible ideas; and how those which 
" are made use of to stand for actions and notions quite removed 
" from sense, have their rise from thence, and from obvious sen- 
" sible ideas are transferred to more abstruse significations, and 
*' made to stand for ideas that come not under the cognizance of 
" our senses, viz. to imagine, apprehend, comprehend, adhere, 
" conceive, instil, disgust, disturbance, tranquillity, &c. are all 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 547 

" words taken from the operations of sensible things, and applied 
" to certain modes of thinking. Spirit, in its primary signification, 
" is breath: Angel, a messenger; and I doubt not, but if we could 
'^ trace them to their sources^ we should Jind^ in all languages, the 
" names which stand for things that fall not under our senses, to 
" have had their first rise from sensible ideas.^* From the sentence 
which follows, it also appears, that Locke, as well as his ingeni- 
ous disciple, was disposed to connect this philological speculation 
with his own account of the origin of our ideas. — " By ujiich we 
*' may give some kind of guess what kind of notions they were, 
" and whence derived, which filled their minds, who were the 
" first beginners of languages; and how nature, even in the 
" naming of things, unawares suggested to men the originals and 
^^ firinci files of all their knowledge.^* 

Condillac, in his Essai sur l*origine des Connoisances Humaines, 
has given his sanction to this conclusion of Locke (Secon^e Par- 
tie, Sect. 1, chap, x.) And another writer, far superior, in my 
©pinion, to Condillac, as a metaphysician, has brought forward 
the philological fact stated in the foregoing paragraph, as a new 
argument in favour of the theory which refers to sensation the 
elements of all our knowledge. 

" L'imperfection des langues en ce qu'elles rendent presque 
" toutes les idees intellectuelles par des expressions figurees, 
" c'est-a-dire par des expressions destinees, dans leur significa- 
" tion propre, a exprimer les idees des objets sensibles; et re- 
" marquons en passant, que cet inconvenient, commun a toutes 
" les langues, suffiroit peut-etre pour montrer que c*est en effet 
« a nos sensations que nous devons toutes nos idees, si cette ve- 
" rite n'etoit pas d'ailleurs appuyee de mille autres preuves 
» incontestables."* 

Hobbes seems to have been the first, or, at least, one of the 
first who started the idea of tliis sort of etymological metaphy- 
sics. " If it be a false affirmation" (he observes in one passage) 

* Melanges, Tome V. p. 26., Amsterdam, 1767. 



548 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

" to say a quadrangle is rounds the word round quadrangle signi- 
" fies nothing, but is a mere sound. So likewise, if it be false to 
« say, that virtue can be fioured^ or bloivn ufi and down, the words 
" in-fioured (infused) virtue^ — in-blown (inspired) virtue^ are as 
" absurd and insignificant as a round quadrangle. And therefore 
*' you shall hardly meet with a senseless and insignificant word, 
" that is not made up of some Latin or Greek names." — See 
page 111, of the folio edition of Hobbes, printed at London in 
1750; and compare it with page 103 of the same volume. 



NOTE (P), P. 206. 

I do not quote the following lines as a favourable specimen of 
tke Abbe de Lille's poetry, but merely as an illustration of the 
heterogeneous metaphors which obtrude themselves on the fan- 
cy, whenever we attempt to describe the phenomena of Memory, 
It is but justice to him to remark, at the same time, that some 
of them (particularly those printed in Italics) do no small honour 
to |iis philosophical penetration. 

** Cependant des objets la trace passagere 

** S'enfuirait loin de nous comme une ombre legere, 

** Si le ciel n'eut cree ce depot precieux, 

** Ou le gout, I'odorat, et I'oreille, et les yeux, 

*' Viennent de ces objets deposer les images, 

*' La memoire. A ce nom se troublent tons nos sages; 

" Quelle main a creuse ses secrets reservoirs? 

** Quel Dieu range avec art tous ces nombreux tiroirs, 

** Les vide ou les rennplit, les referme ou les ouvre? 

**^ Les nerfs sont ses sujets, et latete est son Louvre. 

*' Mais comment a ses lois toujours obeissants, 

** Vont-ils a son empire assujettir les sens? 

" Comment I'entendent-ils, sitot qu'elle commande? 

** Comment un souvenir qu'en vain elle demande, 

** Dans un temps plus heureux promptement accouru,. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 549 

** Quand je n'y song-eais pas, a-t-il done reparu? 

** Au plus ancien depot quelquefois si fidele, 

" Sur un depot r6cent pourquoi me trahit-elle? 

" Pourquoi cette memoire, agent si merveilleux, 

" Depend-elle des temps, du hasard et des lieux? 

*' Par les soins, par les ans, par les maux affaiblie, 

♦* Comment ressemble-t-elle a la cire vieillie, 

** Qiii fidele au cachet qu'elle admit autrefois, 

*' Refuse une autre empreinte et resiste k mes doigts? 

*' Enfin, dans le cerveau si I'image est tracee, 

" Comment peut dans un corps s'imprimer la pensee? 

*' Ldjinit to7i savoiVi mortel atidacieux; 
*' Va mesurer la terrct interro^er les cieux, 
** De Vimmense univers regie Vordre supreme; 
** Mais ne pretends jamais te connaitre toi-m,em,es 
*' X^ s'ouvre sous tes yeiix un abhne sansfonds." 

De Lille. L'Imagination, Chant I. 



NOTE(Q), P. 2ir. 

" It is never from an attention to etymology, which would fre- 
^* quently mislead us, but from custom, the only infallible guide 
" in this matter, that the meanings of words in present use must 
« be learnt. And indeed, if the want in question were material, 
" it would equally affect all those words, no inconsiderable part 
" of our language, whose descent is doubtful or unknown. Be- 
" sides, in no case can the line of derivation be traced backwards 
" to infinity. We must always terminate in some words of whose 
" genealogy no account can be given." — Campbell's Philosophy 
of Rhetoric, Book ii. chap. 2. 

In this remark I perfectly agree with the very acute and judi^ 
cious writer; but I do not well see its connection with the follow- 
ing note which is subjoined to it. 

" Dr. Johnson, who, notwithstanding his acknowledged learn- 
<* ing, penetration, and ingenuity, appears sometimes, if I may 



550 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

'^ adopt his own expression, * lost in lexicography,' ha(k declared 
^* the name /lunchj which signifies a certain mixt liquor very well 
" known, a cant word, because, being to appearance without ety- 
" mology, it hath probably arisen from some silly conceit among 
" the people. The name sherbet, which signifies another known 
^< mixture, he allows to be good, because it is Arabic; though, 
" for aught we know, its origin among the Arabs hath been 
" equally ignoble or uncertain. By this way of reckoning, if the 
" word punchy in the sense wherein we use it, should, by any 
*' accident, be imported into Arabia, and come into use there, it 
*'^ would make good Arabic, though it be but cant English; as 
" their sherbet, though, in all likelihood, but cant Arabic, makes 
" good English. This, I own, appears to me very capricious."—. 
Ibid. 

I cannot help being of opinion, that, in Dr. Johnson's decision 
concerning the comparative rank of these two words in the Eng- 
lish language, he has greatly the advantage over his critic; al- 
though nothing, undoubtedly, can be more absurd than the prin- 
cifile on which it proceeds; that " those words, which being to 
" appearance without etymology, have probably arisen from some 
^^ silly conceit among the people," ought, on that account, to be 
banished from good writing. The real ground of the difference, 
in point of effect, which the words punch and sherbet produce on 
the ear of an Englishman is, that the former recals images of low 
life and of disgusting intemperance; whereas the latter, if it at all 
awakens the fancy, transports it, at once, to the romantic regions 
of the East. If the Arabians were to feel with respect to England, 
as every well-educated Englishman feels with respect to Arabia, 
the word punch could not fail to affect their ear, as the word 
sherbet does ours. Nor should this be ascribed to caprice, but to 
the general and unalterable laws of the human frame. 

To a Frenchman who never visited this island, and who knows 
English manners by description alone, the word punch has, by no 
means, the same air of vulgarity with which it appears to our 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. SSI 

eyes. In fact, I am inclined to believe, that /wnc/ie and sorbet 
would be considered by him as words of the same class, and 
standing very nearly on the same level. 

I shall avail myself of the opportunity which the last quotation 
from Dr. Campbell affords me, to express my surprise, that an 
author who has illustrated, so very ably as he has done, the para- 
mount authority of custom in all questions relative to language, 
should have adhered, with such systematic obstinacy, to the an- 
tiquated hath in preference to has. In discourses from the pulpit 
it certainly contributes to the solemnity of style; in consequence., 
partly, of the use made of it in our excellent translation of the 
Bible; and partly, of its rare occurrence in our ordinary forms 
©f speaking. If it were universally substituted for has (as Swift 
wished it to be), it would lose this charm altogether; while, in the 
mean time, nothing would be added to our common diction, but 
stiifness and formality. A choice of such expressions, according 
to the nature of our subject, is an advantage which our language 
possesses in no inconsiderable degree; nor ought it to be the ob- 
ject of a philosophical critic to sacrifice it to a mere speculative 
refinement. 

If analogy is to be followed uniformly as a guide, why does 
Campbell, in the very same sentence with hath, make use of such 
words as signifies and allows. '—Why not signijieth and allovjeth? 



NOTE (R), P. 235. 

I do not here go so far as to assert, that a blind man might not 
receive, by means of touch, something analogous to our notion of 
beauty. In the case of those who see, the word is, in no instance 
that I can recollect, applied immediately to the perceptions of 
that sense; but this question, though started in one of the vo- 
lumes of the Encyclofiedie, is of no moment v/hatever in the pre- 
sent inquiry. I have no objection, therefore, to acquiesce in the 
ftsUowing statement, as it is there given. 



S^-2 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

" II n'y 21 ni beau ni laid pour Todorat et le gout. Le Pere An-' 
" dre, Jesuite, dans son Essai sur le Beau, joint me me a ces deux 
" sens celui de toucher: mais je crois que son systeme peut-etre 
" contredit en ce point. II me semble qu'un aveugle a des idees 
" de rapport, d*ordre, de symmetric, et que ces notions sont en- 
« trees dans son eniendement par le toucher, comme dans le no- 
" tre par la vue, moins parfaites peut-etre, et moins exactes: 
" mais cela prouve tout au plus, que les aveugles sont moins af- 
<* fectes du beau que nous autres clairvoyans- — En un mot, il me 
" paroit bien hardi de prononcer, que Taveugle statuaire qui fai- 
" soit des bustes ressemblans, n'avoit cependant aucune idee de 
" beaute.'* — Encyclop. Artie. Beaute. 

That our notions of the beauty of visible objects are, in many 
instances, powerfully modified by associations originally suggest- 
ed by the sense of touch, will afterwards appear. 



NOTE (S), P. 260. 

The following extract from a letter of Dr Swift's to Lord Pe- 
terborough, in which he ridicules some of the partial and confined 
maxims concerning gardening which were current in his time, 
maybe applied (inutatis mutandis) to most of the theories hither- 
to proposed with respect to the beautiful in general. 

— — — " That this letter may be all of a piece, I'll fill the rest 
'* with an account of a consultation lately held in my neighbour- 
" hood, about designing a princely garden. Several critics were 
« of several opinions: one declared he would not have too much 
" art in it: for my notion (said he) of gardening is, that it is only 
** sweeping nature: anotlier told them, that gravel-walks were 
f' not of a good taste, for all the finest abroad were of loose sand: 
" a third advised peremptorily there should not be one lime-tree 
" in the whole plantation: a fourth made the same exclusive clause 
" extend to horse-chesnuts, which he affirmed not to be trees, 

2 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 553 

" but weeds. Dutch elms were condemned by a fifth; and thus 
" about half the trees were proscribed, contrary to the Paradise 
" of God's own planting, which is expressly said to be planted 
" with all trees. There were some who could not bear ever- 
" greens, and called them never-greens; some who were angry at 
" them only when cut into shapes, and gave the modern garden- 
" ers the name of ever-green taylors; some, who had no dislike 
" to cones and cubes, but would have them cut in forest-treesj 
" and some who were in a passion against any thing in shape, 
"even against dipt hedges, which they called green walls. 
" These (my Lord) are our men of taste, who pretend to prove 
" it by tasting little or nothing. Sure such a taste is like such a 
" stomach, not a good one, but a weak one." 

" I have lately been with my Lord — who is a zealous yet a 
" charitable planter, and has so bad a taste, as to like all that is 
*' good." Pope's Works, 



NOTE (T), P. 283, 

The following definition of the word Picturesque is given by 
the Abbe du Bos, in his critical reflections on poetry and paint- 
ing. I do not think it corresponds exactly with any acceptation 
in which it has ever been understood in this country. In one res- 
pect, it approaches to the definition of Gilpin, mentioned in the 
text. 

" J*appelle composition pittoresque, I'arrangement des objets 
<' qui doivent entrer dans un tableau par rapport a refPet general 
«' du tableau. Une bonne composition pittoresque est celle dont 
" le coup d'oeil fait un grand effet, suivant I'intention du peintre 
« et le but qu'il s*est propose. II faut pour cela que le tableau ne 
*' soit point embarasse par les figures, quoiqu*il y en ait assez 
" pour remplir le toile. II fait que les objets s'y demelent facile- 
" ment. II ne faut pas que les figures s'estropient Tune i'autre? 

4 A 



554 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

" en se cachant reciproquement la moitie de la tete, ni d'autres 
" parties du corps, lesqueiies il convient au sujet de faire voir. 
" If faut enfin, que les groupes soient bien composes, que la lu- 
" miere leur soit distribuee judicieusement, et que les couleurs 
" locales, loin de s'entretuer, soient disposees de maniere qu'il 
'^ resulte du tout une harmonic agreeable aToei] par elle-meme."* 

The chief difference between this definition and that of Gilpin 
is, that the latter refers chiefly to natural objects; the former ex- 
clusively to painting. But both agree in one common idea, that 
of a la7idscape so composed as to produce a happy effect in a pic- 
ture. Du Bos applies the epithet to this composition when exhi- 
bited by the artist on canvas: Gilpin, to such compositions when 
they happen to be sketched out to the painter's pencil by the hand 
of nature herself. Gilpin's definition, therefore, presupposes the- 
idea which Du Bos attempts to explain; and may, perhaps, be 
considered as a generalization of it, applicable both to the com- 
binations of nature, and to the designs of art. It is in tlie former 
of these senses, however, that he in general uses the word 
through the whole of his Essay. 

It is remarkable, that Sir J. Reynolds seems, at one time, to 
have been disposed to restrict the meaning of picturesque to na- 
tural objects; while the definition of Du Bos would restrict it to 
the art of painting. From a note of Mr. Gilpin's, it appears, that 
when his Essay was first communicated to Reynolds, the latter 
objected to the use he sometimes made of the term picturesque; 
observing, that, in his opinion, " this word should be applied only 
" to the works of nature."! But on this point he seems to have 
changed his opinion afterwards.:}: In an earlier performance, too, 
of Reynolds, we find the word employed by himself, in the very 
same sense in which he objects to it in the above sentence. 
Speaking of a picture of Rubens (the crucifixion of Christ be- 

r * Reflexions Critiques, &c. Sect. 31. 

t Three Essays on Picturesque Beauty, pp. 35, o6. 
\ Lettei* to Gilpin, ibid. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, S55 

tween the two thieves, at Antwerp), he observes, that " the three 
" crosses are placed prospectively in an uncommonly picturescjiie 
" manner,'* Sec. &c. (See the rest of the passage, which is worth 
.consulting, in his journey through Flanders and Holland, in the 
year 1781.) 



NOTE (U), P. 285. 

Mr. Price has stated, with his usual acuteness and candour, 
the essential difference between the philological question concern- 
ing the propriety of his lavguage upon this subject; and the phi- 
losopfiical question concerning the reality of the distinction upon 
which his treatise hinges. 1 differ from him only in this, that I 
consider the former question as of much greater importance than 
he seems to attach to it. His words are these; — 

" I must here observe (and I wish the reader to keep it in his 
" mind), that the inquiry is not in what sense certain words are 
" used in the best authors, still less what is their common and 
" vulgar use and abuse; but whether there are certain qualities 
" which uniformly produce the same effects in all visible objects, 
" and, according to the same analogy, in objects of hearing, and 
" of all the other senses; and which qualities (though frequently 
« blended and united with others in the same object or set of ob- 
" jects) may be separated from them, and assigned to the class 
" to which they belong, 

" If it can be shewn, that a character composed of these qua- 
« lities, and distinct from all others, does prevail through all na- 
'« ture; if it can be traced in the different objects of art and of 
" nature, and appears consistent throughout, it surely deserves 
" a distinct title; but, with respect to the real ground of inquiry, it 
" matters little whether such a character, or the set of objects 
^< belonging to it, is called beautiful, sublime, or picturesque, or 
" by any other name, or by no name at all."* 

* Essay on the Picturesque, pp. 40, 41. 



556 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

These remarks must be received with very important limita- 
-tions; for, granting them to hold (as they certainly do to a con- 
siderable extent) with respect to the use of words in any particu- 
lar language, they certainly will not apply to cases where the 
same trandtive or metafihorical meanings follow, in a variety of 
different tongues, the corresponding terms in all of them. This, I 
flatter myself, I have already shewn with sufficient clearness. 

As to the philosophical question about the two sets of qualities 
distinguished by Mr. Price, I not only agree with him in almost 
all the critical observations which he has inrroduced in the course 
of the discussion, but I esteem his work, as eminently calculated} 
in its practical tendency, to reform and to improve the public taste. 
I confess, at the same time, 1 am somewhat afraid, that the 
vagueness and ambiguity of his favourite term may give rise to 
many misapplications of his principles, very remote from the in- 
te»tions of the author. The picturesque cottages, and picturesque 
porters'-lodges, which have lately been starting up all over the 
country, (to the greater part of which we may apply the happy 
expres ion of De Lille — " Veut etre pittoresque et n'est que ridi- 
" cule,") afford a proof, that this apprehension is not without 
some foundation. 



NOTE (X), P. 313. 

" Un peintre, qui de tons les talens necessaires pour former le 
" grand artisan, n'a que celui de bien co/orer, decide qu'un tableau 
" est excellent, ou qu'il ne vaut rien en general, suivant que 
" I'cuvrier a sgu manier la coulcur. La poesie du tableau est 
" comptee pour peu de chose, pour rien meme, dans son juge- 
" ment. II fait sa decision, sans aucun egard aux parties de Tart 
« quil n'a point." (Reflexions Crit. sur la Poesie et sur la Pein- 
ture.) 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATION^. 557 



NOTE (Y), P. 322. 

For the following very judicious remark of Mr Burke's, on the 
philosophical speculations of Sir J. Reynolds, the public is in- 
debted to Mr Malone. (V. 1. XCVII.) 

" He was a great generalizer, and was fond of reducing every 
^^ thing to one system, more perhaps than the variety of princi- 
" pies which operate in the human mind, and in every human 
<* work, will properly endure. But this disposition to abstractions, 
" to generalizing, and classification, is the greatest glory of the 
" human mind, that indeed which most distinguishes man from 
" other animals, and is the source of every thing that can be call- 
" ed science. I believe, his early acquaintance with Mr. Mudge 
" of Exeter, a very learned and thinking man, and much inclined 
" to philosophize in the spirit of the Piatonists, disposed him to 
" this habit. He certainly, by that means, liberalized, in a high 
" degree, the theory of his own art; and if he had been more me- 
t< thodically instituted in the early part of life, and h.u possessed 
« more leisure for study and reflection, he would, in my opinionj 
" have pursued this method with great success." 



NOTE (Z), P. 348. 

Since finishing this Essay, I find, that I have been partly anti- 
cipated in the foregoing remark by Mr. Hume, who, in his Trea- 
tise of Human Nature, expresses himself thus: — 

" 'Tis a quality very observable in human nature, that any op- 
" position which does not entirely discourage and intimidate us, 
** has rather a contrary effect, and inspires us with a more than 
" ordinary grandeur and magnanimity. In collecting our force to 
" overcome the opposition, we invigorate the soul, and give it an 
" elevation with which otherwise it would never have been ac- 



r 



^53 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

** quainted. Ccmipliance, by rendering our strength useless, 
*^ makes us insensible of it; but opposition awakens and enaploys 

"it. 

** This is also true in the inverse. Opposition not only enlarges 
^* the soul, but the soul, when full of courage and magnanimity, 

** in a manner seeks opposition.— These principles have an 

" effect on the imagination as well as on the passions. To be con- 
*^' vinced of this, we need only consider the influence of heights 
•" and depths on that faculty. Any great elevation of place, com- 
^* municatesakind of pride or sublimity of imagination, and gives 
** a fancied superiority over those that lie below; and, vice versa^ 
" a sublime and strong imagination conveys the idea of ascent 
«^ and elevation. Hence it proceeds, that we associate, in a man- 
"^ ner, the idea of whatever is good with that of height, and evil 
^^ with lowness. Heaven is supposed to be above, and hell below. 
^^ A noble genius is called an elevated and sublime one. Et udam 
^^ Spernit humum fugiente penna. On the contrary, a vulgar and 
^< trivial conception is styled indifferently, low or mean. Prospe- 
■^^ rity is denominated ascent, and adversity descent. Kings and 
'« princes are supposed to be placed at the top of human affairs^ 
^^ as peasants and day-labourers are said to be in the lowest sta- 
** tions. These methods of thinking and of expressing ourselves, 
^' are not of so little consequence as they may appear at first 
«^ sight. 

" 'Tis evident to common sense as well as philosophy, that 
** there is no natural nor essential difference betwixt high and 
" low, and that this distinction only arises from the gravitation of 
" matter, which produces a motion from the one to the other. 
" The very same direction, which in this part of the globe is 
" called ascent, is denominated descent in our antipodes; which 
" can proceed from nothing but the contrary tendency of bodies. 
" Now 'tis certain, that the tendency of bodies, continually ope- 
" rating upon our senses, must produce, from custom, a like ten- 
" dency in the fancy, and that when we consider any object *^ 
" situated in an ascent, the idea of its weight gives us a prQpen- 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS- 559 

" sity to transport it from the place in which it is situated to the 
" place immediately below it, and so on 'till wc come to the 
" ground, which equally stops the body and our imagination. For 
" a like reason we feel a difficulty in mountin^^, and pass not 
** without a kind of reluctance from the inferior to that which is 
" situated above it, as if our ideas acquired a kind of gravity fiom 
" their objects. As a proof of this, do we not find that the facility, 
'^' which is so much studied in music and poetry, is called the 
" fall or cadency of the harmony or period; the idea of facility 
" communicating to us that of descent, in the same manner as 
" descent produces a facility? 

" Since the imagination, therefore, in running from low to 
" high, finds an opposition in its internal qualities and principles, 
" and since the soul, when elevated with joy and courage, in a 
" manner seeks opposition, and throws itself with alacrity into 
" any scene of thought or action, where its courage meets with 
" matter to nourish and employ it; it follows, that every thing 
" which invigorates and enlivens the soul, whether by touching 
" the passions or imagination, naturally conveys to the fancy this 
*' inclination for ascent, and determines it to run against the na- 
" tural stream of its thoughts and conceptions. This aspiring 
" progress of the imagination suits the present disposition of the 
" mind; and tlie difficulty, instead of extinguishing its vigour and 
<* alacrity, has the contrary effect of sustaining and increasing it. 
" Virtue, genius, power, and riches, are for this reason associated 
" with height and sublimity, as poverty, slavery, and folly are 
" conjoined with descent and lowness. Were the case the same 
" with us as Milton represents it to be with the angels, to whom 
*« descent is adverse, and who cannot sink without labour and coin- 
'* fiulsion, this order of things would be entirely inverted; as ap- 
" pears hence, that the very nature of ascent and descent is de- 
^' rived from the difficulty and propensity, and, consequently, 
« every one of their effects proceeds from that origin." Treatise 
#f Human Nature, Vol. XL p. 281, et seq. 



560 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Though I must have repeatedly read the above passage in 
Mr. Hume's works, it had totally escaped my recollection, till I 
met with a short abstract of it very lately, in turning over Dr. 
Gerard's ingenious Essay on Taste. 



NOTE(Aa), P. 349. 

" As for the position, or attitude of virtue; though in a histo- 
" rical piece, such as ours is designed, it would on no account b& 
"proper to have immediate recourse to the way of emblem; one 
" might, on this occasion endeavour, nevertheless, by some arti- 
" fice, to give our figure, as much as possible, the resemblance of 
" the same goddess, as she is seen on medals, and other ancient 
*' emblematic pieces of like nature. In this view, she should be so 
" designed, as to stand firm with her full poise upon one foot, 
" having the other a little advanced and raised on a broken piece 
« of ground or rock, instead of the helmet or little globe on which 
" we see her usually setting her foot, as triumphant, in those 
" pieces of the emblematic kind. A particular advantage of this 
" attitude, so judiciously assigned to virtue by ancient masters, 
" is, that it expresses as well her aspiring effort, or ascent to- 
*« wards the stars and heaven, as her victory and superiority over 
" fortune and the world. For so the poets have described her, 
« And in our piece particularly, where the arduous and rocky 
" way of virtue requires to be emphatically represented, the as- 
" cending posture of this figure, with one foot advanced, in a sort 
" of climbing action, over the rough and thorny ground, must of 
" necessity, if well executed, create a due effect, and add to the 
" sublime of this ancient poetic work." 

See a treatise, by Lord Shaftesbury, entitled, " A Notion of the 
<' Historical Draught of the Judgment of Hercules, according t© 
" Prodicus, 8cc." 

See also La Gerusalemme Liberata. Canto 17. Stan. 61, 62.* 

2 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 561 



NOTE (Bb), P. 356. 

In Boileau*s translation of Longinus, as in the English one of 
Smith, the word /2xB-oi is omitted; but in the edition of this trans- 
lation, published by M. de St Marc, the following note is sub- 
joined to the text: " Le Grec dit uji art clu Sublime ou du Prch- 
*-'fond. Tons les interpretes ont pris ces deux termes pour 
" synonymes. J'ai peine a croire, que Longin ait voulu les em- 
" ployer comme tels. Ce n'est que dans ce seul endroit qu*ils 
" sont mis avec la particule disjonctive; partout ailleurs la con- 
" jonction les unit dans une meme phrase. Je pense done, que 
" par le sublime et le profond notre Rheteur a vouiu presenter 
" deux idees differentes. Et dans le fait, ces deux differentes 
" idees conviennent egalement a son sujet. La Profondeur n*e8t 
" pas moins necessaire que le Sublime a la grand eloquence." 

Instead, however, of supposing Longinus to have been in- 
fluenced, in the above passage, by the conceit suggested by the 
French critic, it seems to me much more reasonable to conclude, 
that he had an eye to the similarity of the impressions produced, 
in many instances, by height and by defith^ both in their literal and 
in their figurative acceptations. Various proofs of this similarity 
will occur in the sequel of this Essay. 



NOTE(Cc), P. 363. 

The tedious controversy about the sublimity of this passage of 
scripture, which was provoked among the French critics, by a 
letter from Huet, Bishop of Avranches, to the Duke of Montau- 
sier, would now be scarcely remembered (at least in this coun- 
try), were it not for the space which it is so absurdly allowed to 

4 13 



562 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

occupy, in some of the best editions of Boileau's works.— The 
only English writer of note who has given any countenance to 
the Bishop's paradox is Lord Kames, who, after mentioning the 
dispute to which it gave rise, as a curious occurrence in literary 
history, observes that, in the opinions held by both parties, there 
was a mixture of truth and of error; the passage in question be- 
ing sublime in one point of view, and not sublime in another. For 
the grounds on which this decision rests, see Elements of Criti- 
cism, 

A French poet of our own times, in alluding to the wonders 
of creative power, has attempted, by means of a very singular 
personification, to rise still higher than the sacred historian. 
With what success I leave to the reader to judge. 

" L^im agination, feconde enchantresse, 

" Qiii fait mieux que garder et que se souvenir, 

" Retrace le passe, devance I'avenir, 

" Refait tout ce qui fut, fait tout ce qui doit etrc;, 

" DIt a I'un d'exister, a I'autre de renaltre; 

** Et comme a TEternel, quand sa voixl'appela, 

*' Uetre encore au n4ant lui repond: me Voild" 

It is with some regret I mention, that these lines are extracted 
from the works of an author, equally distinguished by the beauty 
and the fertility of his genius, — the Abbe de Lille. 



NOTE (Dd), P. 365. 

Mr. Burke has passed too slightly over the subject of inanity ^ 
without turning his attention to its two different mocUfications,— 
immensity and eternity. The latter seems to me to contribute still 
more to the sublime than the former. Is not this owing to its 
coming home more directly to our personal feelings: and conse- 
quently (according to Mr. Burke's own doctrine) to a certain 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 563 

mixture of the terrible^ or at least of the awful^ inseparable from 
the conception? 

With respect to that portion of eternity which is already past, 
there is another circumstance which conspires with those already 
mentioned, in leading us to connect with it an emotion of subli- 
mity. 1 mean the bias of the mind (arising chiefly, it is pro- 
bable, from associations early established in the fancy by the phe- 
nomena of falling bodies) in speaking of the history of former 
ages, to employ words literally expressive of elevated position. 
We call ourselves " the descendayits of our ancestors;" — we speak 
of" tracing up. our genealogy;" — " of honours or of estates des- 
cending in the male, or in the female lines." We speak, in like 
manner, of traditions handed down from one generation to ano- 
ther; nay, we sometimes employ the word high^ as synonymous 
with extremely ancient. " The nominal observation" (says Dr. 
Brown in a sentence quoted by Dr. Johnson) "of the several days 
" of the week is very high^ and as old as the ancient Egyptians, 
" who named the same according to the seven planets." Another 
authority to the same purpose is afforded by Prior: 

" The son of Adam and of Eve, 

*' Can Bourbon or Nassau go higher?" 

Is not the veneration with which we look up to antiquity fiarthj 
owing to the influence of these associations? — Mr Hume has at- 
tempted to account for it upon a different principle; but his theory 
is to me quite unintelligible: " Because we find greater difficulty, 
" and must employ superior energy, in running over the parts of 
<* duration than those of space; and in ascending through past 
" duration, than in descending through what is future; therefore, 
« we value higher, and contemplate with greater veneration, 
« things distant in time, than things remote in space, and the 
" persons and objects of antiquity, than those which we figure to 
« ourselves in the ages of futurity." What are we to understand 
by the superior energy ive employ z« running over the parts ofdii- 



564 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

ration than these qfsfiace; and in ascending through iiast duration.,, 
than in descending through nvhat is future? So far as I am able t©^ 
annex any meaning to this passage, the fact is precisely the re- 
verse of what is here stated^ To ascend through past duration^ 
1% the habitual employment of the mind in the exercise of me- 
mory, and in the study of history. To descend through yw^wre 
duration^ by anticipating events before they happen, is, of all em- 
ployments of the understanding, the most difficult; and it is one? 
in which the soundest and most sagacious judgments are perpe- 
tually liable to error and disappointment. It is singular, that the 
use which Mr. Hume has made, in the above sentence, of the 
metaphorical expressions ascending and descending^ did not sug- 
gest to him a simpler solution of the problem. 

I will take the liberty of remarking further, with respect to 
this theory of Mr. Hume's, that it is not " with our anticipations 
" of the future, that our veneration for the persons and objects of 
" antiquity" ought to have been contrasted, but with our senti- 
ments concerning what is contemporary with ourselves, or of a 
very modern date. The idea oi the future, which is the region of 
all our hopes, and of all our fears, is, in most cases, for that very 
reason, more interesting to the imagination than the idea of the 
iiast; and the idea of the eternity {tost (to borrow a scholastic^ 
phrase) incomparably more so than that of the eternity ante. 

The bias of the mind to connect together the ideas oi antiquity.^ 
and oi elevated filace, is powerfully confirmed by another associa- 
tion, coinciding entirely with the former, in suggesting the same 
modes of expression. Among the various natural objects which 
attract a child's curiosity, there is, perhaps, none which awakens 
a more lively interest, than the river which it sees daily and hourly 
hastening along its channel. Whence does it come? and where 
is it going? are questions which some of my readers may still re- 
member to have asked: Nor is it even impossible, that they may 
retain a faint recollection of the surprise and delight with which 
they first learned, that rivers come down from the mountains, 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 5(55 

and that they all run into the sea. As the faculties of the under- 
standing begin to open to notions abstracted from matter, an ana- 
logy comes invariably and infallibly to be apprehended between 
this endless stream of ivater, and the endless stream of time; an 
analogy rendered still more impressive by the parallel relations 
which they bear, the one to the Ocean, the other to Eternity. The 
^flux of time, the lajise of time, the tide ot time, with many other ex- 
pressions of the same sort, afford sufficient evidence of the facility 
with which the fancy passes from the one subject to the other. 
Hence, too, it is, that the antiquary is said to trace the history of 
laws, of arts, and of languages, to \.\\q\.y fountain heads, or origi?iaf 
sources; and hence, the synonymous meanings, wherever ti7ne is 
concerned, of the words backward and ufiivard. To carry our re- 
searches ufi or back to a particular aera, are phrases equally sanc- 
tioned by our best writers. Nor is it only in our own language 
that these terms are convertible. In the Greek, they are so to a 
still greater extent; the preposition mvcc, when in composition, 
sometimes having the force of the word sursum, sometimes that 
of the word retro^ 

It is scarcely necessary for me to remark, how exactly and how 
irresistibly all these different associations conspire with each 
other, in producing an uniformity of thought and of language 
among mankind, with respect to the two great modifications of 
time, i\\G.past and ih^ future, 

I shall only mention one other circumstance, contributing to 
the same end. — The filial respect with which we literally, as well 
as metaphorically, look up. to our parents, during our early years, 
insensibly extends itself to their progenitors, producing, not un- 
naturally, that illusion of the imagination which magnifies the en- 
dowments, both bodily and mental, of our ancestors, in proportion 
as we carry our thoughts backward from the present period; and 
which, in ruder ages, terminates at last in a sentiment approach- 
ing nearly to that of religion. Datur hxc venia antiquitati, ut 
miscendo Humana divinis^ /irimordia rerum augustiora faciat . 



S66 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, 

In the Chrktian world, however, it is chiefly the scripture his- 
tory which has invested remote antiquity with a character of sub- 
limity, blending our earliest religious impressions with the pic- 
tures of patriarchal manners, with the events of the antediluvian 
ages, with the story of our first parents, and, above all, with the 
emotions inspired by that simple and sublime exordium^ — " In 
" the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth." 



NOTE (Ee), P. 381. 

Among the various instances of the sublime, quoted from Ho- 
mer by Longinus, the following simile has always, in a more par- 
ticular manner, attracted the attention of succeeding critics:-— 

Whatever sublimity may belong to these lines, I am inclined 
to ascribe almost entirely to the image of the shepherd, and to 
the commanding prospect he enjoys from his elevated situation. 



NOTE(Ff), P. 391. 

Marmontel, in one of the best of his elementary books, has laid 
hold of the same analogy, to explain to his pupils the respective 
effects of analysis and synthesis, as exemphfied in the structure 
of language. 

* Lib. V. 1. 770. 

" Far as a shepherd from some point on high 
" O'er the wide main extends his boundless eye, 
''Through such a space of air, with thundering sound, 
" At one long leap th' immortal coursers bound." 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 557 

« Vous voyez que c'est par foiblesse que Tesprit humain ge- 

" neralise ses idees Pour rhonime c'est un besoin de sim- 

" plifier ses idees, a mesure qu*elles se multiplient; et ses gene- 
" ralisations, dans lesquelles les differences specifiques et indi- 
" viduelles sont oubliees, et qui reunissent une multitude de 
" souvenirs en un seul point de ressemblance, ne sont qu'une 
" facilite que se donne Tesprit pour soulager sa vue. C'est une 
" position commode qu*il prend pour dominer sur un plus grand 
" nombre d'objets; et, de cette espece d'eminence ou il s*est 
" place, sa veritable action consiste a redescendre Techelle des 
" idees, en restituant a chacune les differences de son objet, ses 
" proprietes distinctives; et en composant, par la synthese ce qui 
" par Vanalyse il avoit simplifie.*' (Grammaire, p. 8.) 



NOTE (Gg), P. 391. 

Mr. Maclaurin has taken notice of the former of these circum- 
stances in the introduction to his Treatise of Fluxions. — " Others, 
" in the place of indivisible, substituted infinitely small divisible 
" elements, of which they supposed all magnitudes to be form- 
" ed. After these came to be relished, an infinite scale of infini- 
" tudes and infinitesimals (ascending and descending always by 
« infinite steps) was imagined and proposed to be received into 
" geometry, as of the greatest use for penetrating into its abstruse 
" parts. Some have argued for quantities more than infinite; and 
" others for a kind of quantities that are said to be neither finite 
^* nor infinite, but of an intermediate and indeterminate nature. 

" This way of considering what is called the sublime part of 
" geometry has so far prevailed, that it is generally known by no 
" less a title than the science, the arithmetic, or the geometry of 
" infinities. These terms imply something lofty but mysterious: 
" the contemplation of which may be suspected to amaze and 
" perplex, rather than satisfy pr enlighten the understanding; 



568 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONSo 

" and while it seems greatly to elevate geometry, may possibly 
" lessen its true and real excellency, which chiefly consists in its 
" perspicuity and perfect evidence." Maclaurin's Fluxions> Vol, 
I. p. 2. 

Fontenelle, who possessed the rare talent of adorning mathe- 
matical science with the attractions of a refined wit and a lively 
eloquence, contributed perhaps more than any other individual, 
by the popularity of his writings, to give a currency to this para- 
doxical phraseology. In one passage he seems to reproach his 
predecessors for the timid caution with which they had avoided 
these sublime speculations; ascribing it to something resembling 
the holy dread inspired by the mysteries of religion: — A remark, 
by the way, which affords an additional illustration of the close 
alliance between the sublime and the awful. " Quand on y etoit 
" arrive, on s'arretoit avec une espece d'effroi et de sainte hor- 

u reur. On regardoit I'infini comme un mystere qu'il falloit 

" respecter, et qu'il n'etoit pas permis d'approfondir." Preface 
des Elem. de la Geom. de Tlnfini. 

In the same page of the text, I have observed, that, " with the 
" exception of the higher parts of mathematics, and one or two' 
« others, for which it is easy to account, the epithet universally 
«' applied to the more abstruse branches of knowledge is not 
« sublime but profound^ One of the exceptions here alluded to, 
is the application we occasionally make of the former of these 
words to moral speculations, and also to some of those metaphy-* 
sical researches which are connected with the doctrines of reli- 
gion; a mode of speaking which is fully accounted for in the pre- 
ceding part of this essay. 

Agreeably to the same analogy, Milton applies to the meta- 
physical discussions of the fallen angels the word high in prefer- 
ence to deefi. The whole passage is, in this point of view, de- 
serving of attention, as it illustrates strongly the facility with 
which the thoughts unconsciously pass and repass from the litie- 
ral to the metaphorical sublime, 

2 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 559 

**' Others apart sat on a hill retired, 
" In thoughts more elevate, and reasovLcl high 
*' Of Providence, foreknowledg"e, will, and f:ite: 
" Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute." 



NOTE (Hh), P. 397. 

In the effect of this superiority of stature, there seems to be 
something specifically different from that produced by an appa- 
rent superiority of strength. A broad Herculean make would 
suggest ideas much less nearly allied to sublimity, and would 
even detract from the respect which the same stature, with a less 
athletic form, would have commanded. A good deal must here 
be ascribed to that apprehended analogy between a towering 
shape and a lofty mind, which has transferred metaphorically so 
many terms from the former to the latter; and, perhaps, some- 
thing also to a childish but natural association, grafting a feeling 
of reverence on that elevation of body to which we are forced to 
look ufiwards. 

The influence of similar associations mjay be traced in the uni- 
versal practice of decorating the helmets of warriors with plumes 
of feathers; in the artificial means employed to give either a real 
or apparent augmentation of stature to the heroes of the buskin; 
and in the forms of respectful salutation prevalent in all countries; 
which forms, however various and arbitrary they may at first 
sight appear, seem all to agree (according to an ingenious re- 
lUf^rk of Sir Joshua Reynolds) in the common idea of making the 
body less, in token of reverence. 



NOTE (I i), P. 398. 

Longinus has expressed this idea very unequivocally, when he 
tells us: " A?cpoT»j? jg i%o^'A n^ ^oyofv io-rt toi v-^ry* and, if possible, 

4C 



570 KOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Still more explicitly, his French translator, Boileau; "Xe sublime 
" est en efftt ce qui forme i^ excellence et la souveraine perfection 
" du discours." To this version Boileau adds, " Cela s'entend plus 
" aisement que cela ne se peut rendre en Frangois. Ax^orvt^ veut 
" dire summitas, I'extremite en hauteur; ce qu'il y a de filus eleve 
" dans ce qui est eleve. Le mot t^o^,^ signifie a peu pres la meme 
'' chose, c'est a dire, eminentia, ce qui s' eleve au-dessus du reste. 
" C'est sur ces deux termes, dont la signification est superlative, 
" et que Longin prend au figure, que je me suis fonde pour sou- 
»' tenir que son dessein est de traiter du genre sublime de VelO' 
" quence dans son plus haut point de perfection.'* (Remarques sur 
ia Traduction du Traite du Sublime.) Oeuvres de Boileau, Tom. 
V. Amsterdam, 1775. 

In defence of Longinus's application of the epithet sublime to 
Sappho's Ode, Mr. Knight maintains, that the Pathetic is always 
Sublime. " All sympathies (he observes) excited by just and ap- 
*' propriate expression of energic passions, whether they be of 
" the tender or violent kind, are alike sublime, as they all tend 
" to expand and elevate the mind, and fill it vi^ith those enthu- 
" siastic raptures, which Longinus justly states to be the true 
•' feelings of sublimity. Hence that author cites instances of the 
" sublime from the tenderest odes of love, as well as from the 
^' most terrific images of war, and with equal propriety." In a 
subsequent part of his work, Mr. Knight asserts, that " in all the 
" fictions, either of poetry or imitative art, there can be nothing 
« truly pathetic, unless it be at the same time in some degree 
** sublime.'* In this assertion he has certainly lost sight entirely 
of the meaning in which the words Sublime and Pathetic aiT; 
commonly understood in our language; a standard of judgment, 
upon questions of this sort, from which there lies no appeal to 
the arbitrary definition of any theorist; not even to the authority 
of Longinus himself. Upon an accurate examination of the sub- 
ject, it will be found that, like most other authors who have treat* 
td of Sublimity, he has proceeded on the supposition of the pos- 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 571 

sibility of bringing under one precise definition, the views of 
sublimity taken both by the ancients and by the moderns, without 
making due allowances for the numberless modifications of the 
idea, which may be expected from their different systems of 
manners, from their different religious creeds, and from various 
other causes. Whoever reflects on the meaning of the word i ir^ 
tus as employed by the earlier Romans, and compares it with the 
Virtu of their degenerate descendants, will not be surprised at 
the anomalies he meets with, in attempting to reconcile com- 
pletely the doctrines of ancient aiid modern critics concerning the 
Sublime; and will find reason to be satisfied, when he is able to 
give a plausible account of some of these anomalies from their 
different habits of thinking, and their different modes of philoso- 
phizing upon the principles of criticism. 

" Appellata est a Viro virtus. Viri autem propria maxinie est 
" fortitudo, cujus munera duo maxima sunt, mortis dolorisque 
" contemptio." Cic. Tusc. 2. 18. 

" Virtus signifia d'abord la/orc(?, ensuite le courage^ ensuite la 
'' grandeur inoralc. Chez les Italiens, wr^w ne designe guere que 
" la pratique des beaux arts; et le mot qui, dans son origine, ex- 
" primait la qualite qui distingue eminemment I'homme, est 
" donne aujourd'hui a des etres qui ont perdu la qualite distinc- 
" tive de I'homme. Un Soprano est le Virtuoso par excellence." 
Suard. Essai sur la Vie et le Caractere du Tasse. 

In the instance of the subli7ne, it seems to me to be much less 
wonderful that there should be some anomalies in the use made 
of this word by Longinus, when compared with our present 
modes of thinking and of speaking, than that the points of coin- 
cidence should be so many between his view of the subject, and 
that which we meet with in the best books of philosophical cri- 
ticism which have yet appeared. 

I shall take this opportunity to remark (although the observa- 
tion has no immediate connection with the foregoing train of 
thinking), that a talent for the pathetic^ and a talent for humour. 



h 



572 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

are generally united in the same person. Wit is more nearly al- 
lied to a taste for the sublime. I have found the observation veri- 
fied, as far as my own knowledge extends, whether of men or of 
books. Nor do I think it would be difficult to explain the fact, 
from the acknowledged laws of the human mind. 



NOTE (Kk), P. 398. 

The eloquent and philosophical passage which I am now to 
quote, with respect to the final cause of the pleasures connected 
with the emotion of Sublimity, affords a proof, that the views of 
Longinus occasionally rose from the professed and principal ob- 
ject of his book to other speculations of a higher and more com- 
prehensive nature. I shall give it to my readers in the words of 
Dr. Akenside. 

" Those godlike geniuses were well assured, that nature had 
" not intended man for a low-spirited or ignoble being: but, 
" bringing us into life and the midst of this vast universe, as be- 
" fore a multitude assembled at some heroic solemnity, that we 
" might.be spectators of all her magnificence, and candidates 
" high for the prize of glory, she has, therefore, implanted in 
" our souls an unextinguishable love of every thing great and 
" exalted, of every thing which appears divine beyond our com- 
" prehension. Whence it comes to pass, that even the whole 
" world is not an object sufficient for the depth and capacity of 
" human imagination, which often sallies forth beyond the limits 
" of all that surrounds us. Let any man cast his eye through the 
" whole circle of our existence, and consider how especially it 
" abounds with excellent and grand objects, he will soon acknow- 
" ledge for what enjoyments and pursuits we were destined. Thus, 
*' by the very propensity of nature we are led to admire, not little 
<^ springs or shallow rivulets, however clear and delicious, but 
" the Nile, the Rhine, the Danube, and much more than all, 
" the Ocean." Longin. Sect. 24. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 57^ 



NOTE (L 1), P. 403. 



Longinus himself v/as plainly impressed with the same associa- 
tion, when he remarked: " 'v-^og h tth Kcci^tcjg i^ivi^B-tv rx re v^ur/- 

" evidii^xro ^vvxf^iv." 

The beginning of this sentence is thus translated by Boileau: 
" Quand le sublime vient a eclatcr^'' Sec; — upon which version 
Dacier observes as follows: " Notre langue n'a que ce mot eclater 
" pour exprimer le mot £|evf;^S-ei/, qui est emprunte de la tempete, 
" et qui donne une idee mervcilleuse, a peu pres comme ce mot 
*' de Virgile, abrufitis iiiibibus ignes. Longin a voulu donner ici 
" une image de la foudre que Ton voit plutot tomber que partir." 
— Oeuv. de Boileau, p. 16, Tom. V. ed. Amst. 



NOTE(Mm;, P. 409. 

After consulting Bailly's History of Astronomy, I find that my 
memory has not been so faithful on this occasion as I had ima- 
gined, and that I have connected with this particular description, 
several ideas which occur in other parts of the same work. As it 
appears to me, however, of more consequence, at present, to 
illustrate my own idea than to rectify this trifling inadvertency, 
I have allowed the passage to remain as it was originally written . 
(See Hist, de I'Astron. Mod. liv. 7.) 

In the hurry of preparing for the press the notes on this Essay, 
I neglected to refer, on a former occasion (when speaking of the 
intimate connexion between the ideas of the literal and of the 
religious Sublime), to the description given by Thomas of the 
sublime eloquence of Bossuet. It is a description not unworthy of 



574 XOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Bossuet himself; but I am prevented by its length from quoting 
it here. I cannot, however, deny myself the pleasure of transcribing 
a few unconnected sentences. 

"Jamais personne n'a parle de Dieu avec tant de dignite. La 
Divinite est dans ses discours comme dans Tunivers, remnant 
tout, agitant tout—Dans son eloquence sublime, il se place entre 
Dieu et Thomme, il s*adresse a eux tour-a-tour..^ — — Qui mieux 
que lui, a parle de la vie, de la mort, de Teternke, du terns? Ces 
idees par elles-meme inspirent a Timagination une espece de 

terreur, qui n'est pas loin du sublime. A travers une foule de 

sentimens qui Tentrainent, Bossuet ne fait que prononcer de 
temps en temps des mots; et ces mots alors font frissonner, comme 
les ciis interrompus que le voyageur entend quelquefois pendant 
la nuit, dans le silence des forets, et qui Tavertissent d'un danger 

qu'il ne connoit pas. Mais ce qui le distingue le plus, c*est 

Fimpetuosite de ses mouvements, c*est son ame qui se mele a 
tout. II semble que du sommet d*un lieu eleve, il decouvre des 
grands evenemens qui se passent sous ses yeux, et qu'il les ra- 
conte a des hommes qui sont en bas." 



NOTE(Nn), P. 418. 

In his argument concerning the Coufi d^Oeil Militaire, Folard 
rests his opinion, not on any general philosophical considerations, 
but on the results which his good sense suggested to him from 
the records of military history, and from his own personal obser- 
vation and experience. The following short quotation will confirm 
what I have stated in the text, concerning the universality of the 
prejudice there mentioned, at the period when he wrote; a cir- 
cumstance which, when contrasted with the glaring absurdity 
which it now presents to the most superficial inquirers, may be 
regarded as good evidence of the progress which the theory of 
the human mind has made during the course of the last century. 



^ NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 575 

" C'est le sentimeiii general que le coup d'oeil ne depend pus 
de nous, que c'est un present de la nature, que les cannpagncs 
ne le donnent point, et qu'en un nriot il faut I'apporter en naissant, 
sans quoi les yeux du monde les plus per^ans ne voyent goute et 
marchent dans les tenebres les plus epaisses. On se trompc; nous 
avons tous le coup d'oeil selon la portion d'esprit et de bon sens 
qu*il a plu a la providence de nous departir. II nait de I'un et de 
Tautre, mais I'acquis I'affine et le perfectionne, et rexperience 
nous I'assure." . 

" Philopoemen avoit un coufi d^ml admirable. On ne doit 

pas le considercr en lui comme un present de la nature, mais 
comme le fruit de Tetude, de I'application, et de son extreme 
passion pour la guerre. Plutarque nous apprend la methode dont 
il se servit pour voir de tout autres yeux que de ceux des autres 
pour la conduite des armees," &c. &c. &c. 



NOTE (O o), P. 430. 

" Ceux qui passent leur vie dans la societe la plus etendue sont 
" bien bornes, s*ils ne prennent pas facilement un tact fin et deli- 
" cat, et s*ils n'acquierent pas la connoissance du cceur humain.** 
Le$ deux Rejiutations, Conte moral, par Madame de Sillery. 

Quinctilian seems to employ the phrase sensus cominurds in the 
same acceptation nearly, with the French word tact. " Scnsinn 
"ipsum, qui communis dicitur, ubi discet, cum se a congressu, 
" qui non hominibus solum, sed multis quoque animalibus natu- 
" ralis est, segregarit? 

On which passage Turnebus remarks; " per sensum communem^ 
" intelligit peritiam quandam et experientiam, qux ex hominum 
" congressu sensim colligitur, appcUaturque a Cicerone Comwu- 
" nis Prudentia.^* 

D'Alembert occasionally uses tact to denote one of the quali- 
ties of Taste; — that peculiar delicacy of perception, which flike 



576 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

the nice touch of a blind man) arises from habits of close attention 
to those slighter feelings which escape general notice; a quality 
which is very commonly confounded (sometimes by D'Alembert 
himself) with that sensibility to beauty, which is measured by the 
degree of pleasure communicated to the observer. It appears to 
me, at the same time, to be probable, that when he thus employ- 
ed the word, he had an eye chiefly to those questions concerning 
taste, which (as I before said) fall under the province of the 
connoisseur. No person, I apprehend, would use tact to express 
a quick perception of the beauty of a fine prospect — nor does it 
seem to be often or very correctly applied to a quick and lively 
perception of the beauties of writing. " On pent, ce me semble, 
" d'apres ces reflexions, repondre en deux mots a la question sou- 
" vent agitee, si le sentiment est preferable a la discussion, pour 
" juger un ouvrage de gout. L'impression est le juge natural du 
" premier moment, la discussion Test du second. Dans les per- 
" sonnes qui joignent a la finesse et a la promptitude du tact la 
" nettete et la justesse de Tesprit, le second juge ne fera pour 
"Tordinaire que confirmer les arrets rendus par le premier," 
&c. &c. 



NOTE (Pp), P. 446. 

In the article Beau of the French Encyclopedic.^ mention is 
made of a treatise on the beautiful^ by St. Augustine, which is 
now lost. Some idea, however, we are told, may be formed of its 
contents from different passages scattered through his other writ- 
ings. — The idea here ascribed to St. Augustine, amounts to this, 
that the distinctive character of beauty is, that exact relation of 
the parts of a whole to each other, which constitutes its unity. 
" C'est Vunite qui constitue, pour ainsi dire, la forme et Tessence 
" du beau en tout genre. Omnis porro fiulchritudinis forma, unitas 
*« est." — The theory certainly is not of veiy great value; but t.h© 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 577 

attempt is curious, when connected with the history of the author 
and with that of his age. -*" 

With respect to this attempt (which may be considered as a 
generalization of the theory of Utility) it may be remarked far- 
ther, that although evidently far too confined to include all the 
elements of the Beautiful, yet that it includes a larger proportion 
than many others, of those higher beauties, which form the chief 
objects of study to a man of refined taste. 

" Denique sit quod vis simplex du7itaxat et unum.'^ 

" Still follow sense of every art the soul: 

'• Parts an&wering' parts, will slide into a ivhole'* 

Even in the works of nature, one of the chief sources of their 
Beauty to a philosophical eye, is the Unity of Design which they 
every where exhibit.-— On the mind of St, Augustine, who had 
been originally educated in the school of the Manieheans, this 
view of the subject might reasonably be expected to produce a 
peculiarly strong impression. 



NOTE (Q q), P. 464. 

The same remark will be found to hold in all the fine arts 

** A true connoisseur" (says a late writer, who has had the best 
opportunities to form a just opinion on this point) " who sees the 
*' work of a great master, seizes, at the first glance, its merits and 
« its beauties. He may afterwards discover defects; but he always 
" returns to that which pleased him, and would rather admire 
"than find fault. To begin with finding fault where there are 
" beauties to admire, is a sure proof of want of taste. This re^ 
*' mark is the result of several years of my obsei-vation in Italy. 
" All the young men looked for defects in the finest works of 

4D 



578 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

« Corregio, Guido, and Raphael, in the Venus de Medicis, the 
" Apollo Belvidere, and the church of St. Peter: whereas, those 
^' who profited by the lessons which were given them, saw only 
*' beauties." (Dutensianaf \t. 110.) 

Taste is defined by the same writer, to be " the discernment of 
the beauiiful." The definition is obviously much too confined and 
partial; as the discernment of faults as well as of beauties, is a 
necessary ingredient in the composition of this power. But it has 
the merit of touching on that ingredient or element which is the 
most essential of the whole; inasmuch as it is the basis or substra- 
tum of all the rest, and the only one where education can do but 
little to supply the deficiencies of nature. According to the vulgar 
idea, Taste may be defined to be " the discernment of blemishes." 



NOTE (Rr), P. 491. 

The account given by Reynolds himself of what he felt upon 
this occasion, does not accord literally with the fiction of the 
poet; as it appears that his^rst raptures were inconsiderable, in 
comparison of those which he experienced afterwards, upon a 
careful and critical examination of Raffaelle's Works. The Jacty 
therefore, is incomparably more favourable than the Jiction, to the 
argument stated in the text.- 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 579 

NOTE (**), to the Preliminary Dissertation, P. 9. 
Table of Dr. Reid*s Instinctive Principles, extracted from 
Priestley's Examination, P. 9. 

Ta present sensation sue£?ests 5^^^ belief of the present ex- 
- ' oo ^ liitence of an object. 

— the belief of its past existence. 

no belief at all. 

S ^^^® ^^^^^ ^^^ belief of our own 



t Memory 
Imagination 

2 Mental affections 



3 Odours, tastes. 

sounds, and 
certain affec- 
tions of the 
optic nerve 

4 A hard substance 



An extended sub 
stance 

All the primary! 
qualities of bo- t 
dies J 

A body in motion 
Certain forms of~] 
the features, I 
articulations of ! 
the voice, and 
attitudes of the 
body 

Inverted images 
on the retina 

Images in corre- 
sponding parts 
of both eyes 

Pains in any part > 
of the body 3 



1 



C existence. 

C their peculiar corresponding 
C sensations. 



_ Cthe sensation ofhardness, and 
" I the belief of something hard. 

-the idea of extension and space. 



-{ 



-their peculiar sensations, 
-the idea of motion. 



the idea and bdief of certain 
thoughts, purposes, and dis» 
positions of the mind. 



-upright vision, 
-single vision. 



5 ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ place where 

I the pain is seated. 

He also enumerates the following among instinctive faculties or 

firinciples, viz: 

10 The parallel motion of the eyes, as necessary to distinct 

vision. 

1 1 The sense of veracity, or a disposition to speak truth. 



580 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

12 A sense of credulity, or a disposition to believe others. 

1 3 The inductive faculty, by which we infer similar effects from 

similar causes. 

To this table Priestley has subjoined (under the title of Autho- 
rities) a series of quotations from Reid's Inquiry, which beseems 
to have considered as justifying the statement which the table 
exhibits of the leading opinions contained in that work. How far 
the statement is correct, those who have at all entered into the 
spirit of Reid's reasonings, will be able to judge completely from 
the 4th, 5th, and 6th articles; — according to which, Reid is re- 
presented as having maintained, that a hard substance suggests 
the sensation of hardness, and the belief of something hard;'-'^n 
extended substance, the idea of extension and sfiace; and the prima- 
ry qualities of bodies in general, their peculiar sensations. — ——The 
authority produced for the^rs^ of these charges is the following 
sentence; 

" By an original principle of our constitution, a certain sensa- 
" tion of touch both suggests to the mind the conception of hard- 
^'ness, and creates the belief of it; or, in other words, this sensa- 
" tion is a natural sign of hardness." 

It is perfectly evident that the authority here is not only at va- 
riance with the charge; but is in direct opposition to it. Accord- 
ing to Reid, the sensation suggests the conception of hardness; 
according to Priestley's comment, he maintains the absurd and 
nonsensical proposition, that " a hard substance suggests thesen= 
" sation of hardness." — The other two misrepresentations are 
equally gross; and indeed precisely of the same description, * 



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